


Every Bite for Every Side

by JanitorBot



Category: Rockman X | Mega Man X
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Universe, Animaloid Culture, Because I don't know how to make robots clang without faffing about, Calculated Seducing gone Wrong, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Sexual Content, Identity Porn, Inappropriate Conversations, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Uncalculated Seducing gone Right, Vigilantism, Zero deals with humans, drunk people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-11-23 17:52:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18155105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanitorBot/pseuds/JanitorBot
Summary: The world isn’t safe and so Zero is neither surprised nor unprepared in the event of violence no matter how spontaneous. He’s always ready.Then he sees The Enemy and it turns out he wasn’t ready at all.An AU of The Blue Burger in which Zero is very fond of Ecksu, the civilian model who serves burgers for a living - but does NOT like the mysterious reploid who shows up in Maverick attacks.





	1. Prologue: Where it Splits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosescarletful](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosescarletful/gifts).



> A commission fic for Rosescarletful who wanted to have the following: a multi-chapter, Identity Porn AU fic based on “The Blue Burger AU,” splitting off after Zero and “Ecksu” first meet, and Possessive!Zero.  
> It’s AUception!  
> Features an X who is 19% more proactive and a Zero who is 24% more possessive.  
> Considering this is a parallel universe to TBB, there’s some echoes but this is truly its own fic. X and Zero are just X and Zero no matter where, when, and how they get to know each other.

The world is dangerous.

Zero takes that as a fact, not cynicism or paranoia. A safe world wouldn’t have Mavericks and consequently wouldn’t require the Maverick Hunters. A safe world wouldn’t have combat robots, let alone warbots who are equipped with busters that can tear through buildings at half-power.

A safe world wouldn’t have anyone like the Red Ripper exist in the first place.

By default, Zero’s combat mode is on. Even when he’s finishing off fuel with a friendly burger flipper in front of him and the rest of the idyllic makeshift market with humans and reploids eating lunch peacefully behind him. Zero does not drop his guard.

Even while consuming what is the most delicious thing he's ever had since his activation. Objectively speaking, it's not a major achievement since up to this point Zero has only e-tanks and the occasional hydraulic fluid as a base of comparison. 

Still, whatever qualms Zero had about spending zenny for fancy, modified fuel has died away. Now he can understand why the Hunters' canteen is becoming increasingly empty these days. 

“This is good,” Zero comments aloud sincerely, swallowing the last bite of his burger. His sharp blue eyes dart to the kitchen within the burger truck. Threat assessment won't leave it alone. 

What is it about this vehicle that has his threat assessment on edge? Is it carrying explosives? Can explosives contribute to making burgers?

At times like these, Zero wishes he wasn’t an amnesiac with inaccessible data archives. For one, he can dismiss combat mode’s paranoia without inciting his own.

“I’m glad,” the burger flipper reploid replies brightly. “There’s plenty of delicious foods here for you to experience: the very organic and the not-so organic ones. So I hope you come here often, uh…”

“Zero,” the A-Rank Hunter introduces himself.

“Nice to meet you, Zero. I’m Ecksu. He, him pronouns.” Viridian green eyes soft, Ecksu smiles. “I hope I get to see you again soon, Zero.”

Zero’s processor statics. It’s a bizarre reaction and the warbot minutely frowns, running a quick self-diagnostic to check on why –

Then he sees a flash of light at the corner of his peripheral vision.

A millisecond later comes the sound: a noise of a bomb going off like a thundering crack across the sky, accompanied with a growling rumble that stretches underneath Zero’s pedes and the everyone else in Century Road. It provokes a wave of panicked shouts and stunned gasps throughout the bustling street and the large park by it. Flocks of pigeons take off to the opposite direction of the city center and someone is shouting orders for everyone to calm down (must be a Hunter considering how many of them are here).

Twisting his head to the side to the other end of the street, Zero refocuses his vision at the pointed skyscrapers, towering beyond the front rows of office buildings and winding streets in the airy distance. Somewhere within that vague concrete jungle a thin trail of black smoke slither upwards.   

“Was that an explosion?” Ecksu asks incredulously, popping his head out over the counter and looking towards the same direction Zero is with visible concern. His eyes boggle. “Oh fritz, that’s coming from downtown…”

In one of the most densely populated areas of Abel City. With a blow that big, Zero would be impressed (or absolutely unimpressed) if there aren’t casualties.

The Hunter’s transmitter sparks up to life and he reflexively raises a hand to his temple, a universal gesture that he’s receiving a call that he’s adopted from his coworkers.

_“Base to all personnel, four giant mechaniloids from a Burbrick construction site have gone Irregular. Two are causing havoc at the site, one is going east down Lilit Avenue, and the last one has broken into the subway tunnel near Aaron Station. Every Hunter within the ten beat distance report availability status!”_

“Zero to Base, I’m at Century Road and can pursue any of the four. Which one should I hunt?” replies the Crimson Hunter.

“Four?” Ecksu repeats aloud next to him with a frown, not taking off his gaze from the smoke.

_“Base to Zero, from your location, the way to the Lilit Irregular is the clearest – “_

“If traffic isn’t an issue, which one requires the highest priority?”

_“Aaron Station - entire trains of civilians are trapped down there. Be careful: these are Clawhandlers and they are equipped with crushers, welding lasers, and dozer claws, all of which are malfunctioning. Minimize ranged energy weapon usage.”_

“Understood.” 

Priorities consuming his forefront processing, Zero unceremonious leaves behind his burger wrapper on The Blue Burger’s counter and kicks in his accelerators without another word. He faintly hears a surprised sound from the burger flipper behind him, but he’s already dashing away in favor of addressing this new threat.

The world isn’t safe and so Zero is neither surprised nor unprepared in the event of violence no matter how spontaneous.

He’s always ready. When an enemy appears in front of him, he’ll terminate it.

Then he sees The Enemy and it turns out he wasn’t ready at all.

 

* * *

 

At first there’s nothing out of the usual. Generally, there’s a pattern to mayhem like this.

Chaos has an orderly response if it falls somewhere in the red levels of severity (but not at the very extreme end, which implies that everyone and everything is destroyed).

First is the havoc. Then comes the screaming, crying, and the panicking civilians followed closely by the first responders attempting to stabilize the situation. There’s more, but it’s none of Zero’s main concern.

This Irregular attack is no different. Two things that are notable are that the construction mechs are malfunctioning simultaneously and they choose the lunch rush hour to malfunction. The streets were already congested to begin with, but now people are either turning their cars around in reckless fear or outright abandoning their vehicles in the middle of the street. It’s a frenzied swarm of bodies pushing back against the ones who _do_ want to get to the incident sites.

In short, it’s all scale.

This could be interesting.

Zero proceeds through this in the same cool manner he does with every previous Irregular and Maverick attack: swift, efficient, and brutal.

He leaps from rooftop to rooftop to avoid the ground traffic leaps straight into a gaping hole in the middle of an intersection with full momentum. He’s aware that he outright passed a car hanging on the edge by its back wheels, the human driver inside knocked out with a bleeding forehead, unaware of how close she is to falling.

But trying to rescue her would be a waste of time. If the rogue mech continues to wreak support structures underground, the human will fall anyway.

Every second matters.

In the end she and the civilians trapped in the interrupted trains underground are fine. Zero easily finds the rogue Clawhandler: a slow, heavy, ten-meter mech that has all four of its cumbersome limbs and red claw trapped in a tangle of thick cables, pipes, and fallen debris like a fly on a web. Asides from its tri-eyed head whirling in place, it seems content to stay stuck there. Just in case, the Hunter dips below it, takes one direct stab at the glowing generator on its abdomen with the saber, shutting it down.

It’s so easy it’s irritating. Feels like a waste of time. It’s moments like these that the red warbot can almost understand why Hunters like Launch Octopus and Flame Mammoth faff about and prolong their terminations.  

The combatdroid climbs out to see rescue vehicles and medical assistance circling around the maw, already preparing for rescue operations.

“The mech’s down. You should be able to proceed recovery without any trouble,” Zero reports to an officer.

He doesn’t wait for a reply. Zero leaps on top of an abandoned truck lightly to scan the surroundings for any immediate threat worth addressing. When he finds none, he moves on with threat assessment dictating a general direction for him.

He raises Command Center again for the specifics. “Zero to Base, Aaron Station Irregular basically broke down into unresponsiveness. Post-execution is completely under control by first responders. What’s next?”

_“Base to Zero, roger that. Processing report and redirecting other Units...currently the Airborne Unit is engaging the Irregular Clawhandler at Lilit Provide back-up.”_

Storm Eagle is a competent Hunter and leader. Zero managed to take care this entire Irregular by himself; something like this shouldn’t pose too much trouble to the Prince of the Skies.

_There must be other obstacles then._

Zero’s theory is confirmed when he reaches Lilit. The street is part of a popular shopping district and the red combatdroid can see the Seventh Unit Leader is trying to limit collateral the best he can.

Storm Eagle and his flight capable Hunters are coordinating dive-bomb tactics to drag the Irregular’s attention away from a cylindrical department building.  Some Hunters are acting as traffic flaggers, guiding fleeing civilians away from range of fire through the roughed up sidewalks. Others are trying to dig out injured bodies between crushing slabs of torn off walls and pillars before it’s too late.

“Watch out!” Zero hears Storm Eagle warn when the red combatdroid comes close.

The warning isn’t for Zero. It’s for the fellow Hunter who’s flying within arc for a giant limb swinging at their direction. Zero witnesses the exact second Storm Eagle shoves the Hunter out of the way, receiving the blow and is sent flying across the block with a cringing crash into the asphalt.   

“Captain!” The Airborne Unit members cry out in unison. In their momentary halt, the Irregular makes another wild swing with its claw and smacks another Hunter out from the sky like a bug.  

“Keep moving!” commands Zero from below as the remaining flyers scramble to rise beyond range. “I’ll draw the Irregular away – go check on Storm and complete rescue!”

“But sir, you’ll be facing the Irregular by yourself!” someone cries.

_Exactly._

“I’ll be fine. The civilians won’t be the longer you stall,” Zero asserts before he dashes in, saber in hand. That seems to galvanize the other Hunters to get out of the way.

He dances around the mech’s legs to make shallow cuts at it, cleanly leaping away from the mech’s attempts to stomp on him. The Clawhandler learns quickly that no one else but Zero is attacking it and all three red eyes hone onto the Crimson Hunter.  

The Irregular’s parameters must be corrupted; it’s exerting levels of speed and strength to the point of nearly breaking itself. Its mechanical limbs screech with every vicious attempt to crush Zero like a territorial animal.  Every step it takes creates a new hole on the sidewalk and the road.

Still, the AI is basic and Zero anticipates its movements with barely a stray wire. The warbot keeps hopping backwards, gradually drawing it away from the buildings – and mutely frowns when he sees that the pair of laser barrels by the Clawhandler’s neck are glowing.

Zero whips out his buster.

Command Centers says to minimize ranged energy weapon use, not to forgo it completely. If there’s going to be another explosion, Zero prefers that the Irregular be part of the collateral.

He raises his arm, winds up the power, and takes aim…

The sheer surprise of threat assessment suddenly _screeching_ like air-raid sirens are installed right inside his head knocks Zero off-guard.

He barely registered that he released his shot until twin flashes of blue (his shot) and green (not his) consume his vision. His processor blanks out as the resulting smoke billows around him.

Vision recalibrated. Clawhandler appears to be completely offlined. It didn’t collapse back into the building like Zero expected. Instead it's vertically stands in place, fizzles, and collapses at the same spot.

Its back is sizzling. Someone else fired into its back and the mutual force from opposite directions kept it in place.

With a charged shot with a power that rivals Zero’s.

“Is everything alright?”

The voice is from above.

Zero lasers in a dark silhouette in the smoke burnt air. It hovers right above the fallen mechaniloid and lands cautiously on the Irregular’s back with a soft tap. Blue eyes wide, body a tense line, the Hunter stares. Waiting.

The grey veil dissipates enough to reveal the newcomer.

It's a humanoid with large antennas latched on the side of their full-faced helmet. A narrow crimson power gem is embedded on the crown. Spotless blue armor over a slim, aerodynamic build with winged jet engines attached to the back. Wisps sizzle out of their buster for a right arm.

 _Critical,_ threat assessment hisses.

Critical.

No one, not even Sigma who apparently ended his malfunction-induced rampage, has ever been categorized Critical to Zero.

With one hand a buster, the other hand wielding his saber, Zero stalks forward, eyes honing in on the new arrival’s neck.

“May I ask what you are doing?” the stranger -  _the threat -_  asks.

The Red Ripper fires.


	2. Chapter 2

The blue reploid flattens themself on top of the mech just in time for Zero’s charged shot to fly over their head.

“What was that fo – ACH!” They leap frog to the side when Zero fires again.

The warbot sprints up across the one of the fallen Clawhandler’s slump limbs, leaping high with the saber aiming vertically downwards, eyes blazing. The Critical Threat evades that too by skipping off the mech’s abdomen and to its thorax. The sword sinks right through yellow plating, the intense heat bubbling the alloy at the flaring white blue edges.

Glowering at his prey from beneath his horned helmet, the Red Ripper stalks forward, saber still inside the mech and carving through the thick carapace like paste, reassessing.

The Threat has sharp sensors with reflexes and a speed to complement them. With those jet thrusters, has aerial advantage too.

“…you _please_ just stop for one minute…”

Average sized build and wings are small. Not segmented too. Can’t stay in the air long.  

“…get hit? If I did, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

No other weapon in sight besides the buster. Mid to long range fighter.

“…still walking towards me ominously. Can you hear me? Or are you deliber –“

_Restrict mobility then terminate._

The red combatdroid dashes, swinging his sword so swiftly that specks of melted metal splatter across the air like projectiles. The blue reploid yelps in surprise, reflexively raises their arms and dodges backwards – but Zero never intended to strike from the front.

With a charged buster, Zero side-hops and fires from an angle right at the other robot’s wings.

At the last second, the blue reploid’s calves split open, revealing a pair of accelerators not unlike Zero’s own. They lunge and the blast strikes at the edge of the protruding fins. With a shout, they fall somewhere behind the Clawhandler.

The red warbot stays on top, unleashing shallow and rapid shots from his buster above the other robot’s head as they speed across the uneven pavement, forcing them to stay grounded while chasing them to a physical corner of fallen building debris. The Threat keeps their head lowered and dodge rolls in the shadows of the monolithic slabs.

The warbot hops, the Zero Buster keening into a high pitch -

“I DON’T WANT TO FIGHT YOU!”

_What?_

Error; subroutine clashing with frontal processing.

His head stings, sharp and fierce, and the Crimson Hunter barely lands on the torn up sidewalk properly. His buster swaps back into a hand to grasp at his helm tightly as if he can claw in and seize out the ache. The red combatdroid lets out a quiet groan that belies his immense internal conflict.

Combat mode is charged up into overdrive. The warbot’s power distributers surges like they’re directly plugged into a star. Every nanometer of his violence-starved build craves for a real slaughter.

Zero’s proximity sensors are ringing of an arriving giant.

The blue reploid must have sensed the lull because they’ve popped out from their cover, walking slowly towards him.

 _Critical Threat!_ Threat assessment bellows like a voice from the sky. _Destroy it before it destroys you!_ It’s a command blasted through surround sound speakers the size of towers.

Underneath it is the blue reploid stopping a mere meter away.

“Are you okay?” they ask quietly, somehow managing to sound concern with what sounds like a filtered voicebox. 

Inconsistency discovered; cognitive dissonance.

Zero grits his teeth and wrenches his eyes shut under another wave of conflicting directives. He distantly registers voices calling out from the side. The blue reploid softly curses.

A second later, Zero feels a harsh wind that tends to follow after high bursts of speed.

Threat assessment quiets down like someone grabbed the volume dial and plummet it low.

The all-consuming red haze that momentarily possessed the warbot fades. He’s suddenly very aware of the distant klaxons, the crackling of burning patches here and there, and the ghostly murmur that settles in areas of post-battles.

Something blanks out.

When he comes back to, the blue reploid is nowhere in sight. Zero’s chronometer dutifully reports that he was mentally gone for half a minute (Out in the open? _In the battlefield?_ ). He shakes his head, blinking blearily as his mind crawls out of a haze.

When did he fall on his knees?

Zero gets up. He’s not injured and doesn’t wobble, and yet he can’t dislodge this bizarre vertigo like his accelerometers got knocked out of place. Self-diagnostics come back green though.

He mechanically sheathes his saber and raises a hand to his skull, staring into nothing.

What…what in the absolute bolts just happened?

 _I almost lost control,_ Zero thinks feeling far away. _I was about to go…_

Berserk. _Again._

It suddenly feels cold. The temperature has neither dropped nor coolant has been released.

Zero shuts his eyes, restraining the urge to do something impulsive and completely unnecessary. One minute he was ready to shred that mysterious reploid apart. Now he’s left alone with this unspent energy and lingering bloodlust without the appropriate target to apply them. Combat mode isn’t as dominating as before, but it’s still high-keyed. The warbot’s self-disgust gives it a bitter edge.

“We saw shots fired after the Irregular went down!” a Hunter from the Airborne Unit announces, half of the members drawing close to Zero’s position. “What happened, sir? Sir?”

Zero doesn’t answer.

He’s still reeling.

 

* * *

 

The Armored Unit and the Sniping Unit cooperated and neutralized the last two Clawhandlers. New mission: search and recovery.

For the next three hours Zero sticks around to help clear the detritus in the middle of the roads with controlled blasts of his buster. He aids in the rescue process, carrying immobile or unconscious victims to the stretchers, all the while feeling like a ticking bomb.

It’s both relieving and vexing when Command Center issues the mass order for any Hunter who’ve taken hits to rotate shifts for any incomplete operations. Zero is antsy and his accelerators are still keyed up. They’re ready to blast off but there’s no destination. No target to confront.

He wants to fight. He _needs_ to fight. But there isn’t any.

It’s putting him in a dangerous mood so Zero complies the order, stating that he may or may not have a glitch (not that he’d go to Medbay for it, let alone any injury that auto-repair can fix). He hops into the nearest transit carrying the injured Hunters back to Base.

One of the wounded is Storm Eagle. Despite his Prussian blue wings visibly battered and his right leg is torn off at the knee, the Prince of Skies appears jollier than Zero.

“I heard you took on two Clawhandlers by yourself. That’s very good, Zero,” the animaloid praises. “You’ve been here for such a short time and you’re already becoming a fine Hunter.”

“I didn’t take down the second Irregular by myself,” Zero corrects neutrally. “There was another reploid.”

“There was? Who?”

“I don’t know. They weren’t a Hunter.”

Even with a beak, Storm Eagle manages to pull off a frown. “A civilian helped you take down the mech?”

At this, Zero can’t stop the scoff that leaves his mouth. “I wouldn’t call them a civilian. They were equipped with jet thrusters, accelerators, and a high class buster with enough firepower that nearly matches mine.”

For investigation purposes, the Hunters yellow taped off every site where the Irregulars were taken down, setting up preservation and evidence collection. On the back of the Lilit Clawhandler’s back, they’ve discovered a scorched crater dent, four sevenths the size the one Zero made at the front of the mech.  It’s smaller yet nonetheless impressive.  

“Did you see any reploid like that?” Zero asks.

“Hmm, jet thrusters, you say? Are you absolutely sure they weren’t one of mine?”

“If they were, I’d know,” Zero mutters darkly. No one with that much power would escape his notice.

“Then I haven’t.” Storm Eagle crosses his arms. “Now this is concerning. When you file in your report, you should describe the reploid to Gradient or any of the Navigators. They can go through the firearm registry and see if anyone matches the one you saw.”

“The firearm registry?”

“Ah that’s right. You flew up the ranks so you haven’t been an official Hunter for a long time…well, I won’t go over the laws. That’s something you can look up on your own time – and I strongly suggest that you do now that you’re A-Rank,” the Seventh Unit Leader adds sternly. “Anyways, I digress. If you can’t find your mysterious bot in the firearm registry then we have to hunt them down.”

The warbot raises a brow. “Even when they technically provided back-up?”

“Yes. If they’re not registered then there’s an unauthorized buster wielder. Probably has an illegal custom job if they have thrusters too. If those kinds of parts are circulating in the black market, the Recon Unit needs to look into this asap.”

Zero looks away. He’s aware that there is a reploid underworld where seedy exchanges take place, but can it seriously produce something as dangerous as that blue reploid? A part of Zero doesn’t believe it.

“I have a question for you too, Zero,” Storm Eagle speaks up after some time. “Did you happen to see the person who gave me an e-tank?”

“An e-tank? You mean which Lifesaver?”

“I don’t think so. I didn’t see any Lifesavers when we were fighting the mech. You see, after I crashed my HUD disconnected and I couldn’t see anything. Someone helped pull me out of the ground and handed me an e-tank to boost my auto-repair. It wasn’t anyone from my Unit.”

In response Zero shakes his head. “Is it important?”

Storm Eagle huffs through his nostrils. “Not really. I would just like to personally thank them. I’m not sure if you noticed, but civilians tend to be very wary of us considering what we do. Anyone who lends out a helping hand is notable.”

By the time Storm Eagle finishes talking, the Hunter transit grinds to a gradual halt and all conversation ends.

 

* * *

 

Combat mode was calming down when Zero was riding in a vehicle surrounded by injured parties. In HQ where it’s teeming full of healthy, battle competent reploids with weapons specifically designed to take down rogue machines, it naturally stirs up again. Zero is used to this.

Well, he was until he left Command Center after reporting his part of what’s now called the Burbrick Breakout. On his way back to his quarters, Zero nearly seized Flame Stag’s neck because the other Elite Hunter was sprinting down a _tad_ too fast down the hallway, automatically triggering the red warbot’s reaction protocol.

If Zero didn’t pull himself back in that crucial microsecond, both Medbay and the detention center would have new additions.

 _It’s been a full day,_ the warbot grimaces as he slinks into his recharge tube. _Too many things happened and that blue reploid…I’ve taken in too much information. I just need to filter it._

Except combat mode doesn’t improve the next day.

There must be something wrong with Zero’s emotional node. Because it’s normal for the warbot’s targeting system to lock on at any entity with a processor. It’s normal for tactical to summon up at least three different ways to offline any reploid that enters within Zero’s saber range. And it’s normal for Zero to ignore them both because the Hunters are his chosen faction.

It’s not normal for Zero to get worked up like this. It’s not normal that he had to maintain a highly coiled, stock stiff posture at the transit ride during morning patrol because his fingers were itching for his hilt.

So he tries the sim gym, which ultimately does nothing for him. Simulations can’t provide the full range of experiences, let alone the ones he wants. Then Zero beelines straight to the sparring room, hoping to expel some excess energy there.

He’s engaged in hand-to-hand combat with the fourth partner when he slips up. Used more strength than he should.

The warbot ducks under a wild swing at his shoulder, dips below, and rises behind his opponent. A second later, the red combatdroid has the other Hunter in an arm lock.

As the reploid below him curses, trying and failing to shake Zero off, the Elite Hunter huffs a breath. Instead of satisfying his desire of battle, this play only whetted it.

 _This one’s too weak,_ thinks Zero. _I need someone more challenging._

Like Vile who’s openly bloodthirsty or Boomer Kuwanger who doesn’t slouch in the speed department. Like Sigma who Zero has yet to discover the full extent of the taller robot’s combat capacity.

Like that blue reploid who briefly faced Zero’s full, unrestrained power and _walked out alive –_

“Yield! I said yield!”

Zero promptly releases his opponent. The defeated Hunter groans as he curls up on the floor, clutching his arm. Zero was pressing against it so tightly that the limb groans as if it nearly left from the joint.

Searching for the next viable opponent, the warbot looks up. Scans the sparring queue outside of the ring and the spectator balcony above. He hides a grimace.

No interesting candidates. Instead there’s more than a couple Hunters bowing their heads close together, whispering and pointing at him conspicuously. Zero doesn’t need to raise his hearing settings to know what they’re talking about.

That’s right. He’s still walking over acid. The former Maverick may have transitioned from probation to promotion, but that can be easily taken away and replaced with a termination sentence. The insanity defense won’t be forgiven a second time especially since he’s more or less functioning.

“Sorry,” Zero remembers to say to the crumbled Hunter on the floor before leaving the sparring room entirely. He can’t risk trusting himself to abide the rules as long as he’s like this.

However, the problem remains that combat mode is _annoying_ to a nigh unbearable degree.

At this point there’s only one appropriate solution.

 

* * *

 

Zero leaves Hunter Base and walks. He just needs to go somewhere that has more space and less people. He relies by going the opposite where his proximity sensors register active movement.

He winds up at Century Park.

The urban park is always well populated but now it’s emptying out. Scattered visitors dot here and there across the meandering walkways and sprawling greens. The decommissioned reservoir is entertaining ducks and other insignificant critters that don’t garner Zero’s attention.

It’s quiet. Calm. This place should appease Zero’s restlessness and yet…

Maybe he really does have an impairment after all. Two to be precise. The first is his emotional node. The second is whatever’s affecting self-diagnostics because when Zero conducts it, the check comes back green. All major systems are supposedly operational at acceptable levels.

But if that’s the case then there’s no reason for this strange, foggy feeling that has dominated his processor. It’s as if his sensory inputs have frayed and dulled, but that doesn’t make sense either because they’re in working order. As of now he’s cataloguing environmental changes such as such as the gradual falling temperature, the thickening humidity and the darkening sky; they _work._

 _Then what’s_ wrong _with me?_ wonders Zero, gritting his teeth.

“...Zero, is everything alright?”

The warbot jolts back into focus. Becomes aware that his proximity sensors have been ringing of a consistent presence in front of him (but he was so deep in thought he didn’t acknowledge it, not good).

There’s a shorter robot standing in front of the warbot wearing an apron over a lab coat and a pair of jeans. Bright green eyes peering up to Zero with concern.

_It’s that burger flipper._

“Ecksu?” Zero recalls instantly.

Retaining memories of people Zero has met only once isn’t a productive use of hard drive space, and everything outside of Hunter business seems generally trivial. The fact that Zero even remembered Ecksu’s name is a bit of an accomplishment.

Ecksu nods with a soft smile. “That’s me. So, is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” Zero answers neutrally as if he didn’t space out a second ago. “Why do you ask?”

Ecksu thumbs over his shoulder. “You were staring at my truck for a while. I thought you were thinking really hard what to order, but you weren’t responding when I called out for you.”

Truck?

He’s in the market lot lane. While Zero was deep in thought, threat assessment guided the combatdroid’s legs to the nearest target and brought him a couple paces away from The Blue Burger.

Of fritzing course.

Bolts, what is wrong with this truck and what is _wrong_ with threat assessment? Zero is _not_ going to pick a fight with a truck covered in polka dots.

“I was distracted,” Zero admits to his chagrin.

“You did seem very lost in thought,” Ecksu muses. “Would you like to have a burger? I’m still open.”

Now that he thinks about it, Zero didn’t eat yet. His fuels are at adequate levels, but it wouldn’t hurt to bring his tanks back to full.

“I can go for one,” he says finally. “The burger I had the last time - the Sufici? That was packed with nutrients. I’ll have it again.”

Ecksu beams. “Got it.”

Zero climbs on one of the two foldable high stools in front of The Blue Burger’s serving window. Ecksu is back inside the kitchen, collecting chemical vials and pouring the contents into the smelting pot. Threat assessment is nagging to investigate the truck, but the warbot mentally shoves it to the side. Honestly, whatever threat assessment senses to be dangerous in the truck can’t ignite the same levels of urgency that the combatdroid experienced with that blue reploid.

 Zero balls his hands into fists underneath the counter.

It’s that blue reploid’s fault that he’s like this. Unless he goes against them again and ends the fight with their decapitated head in his hands, the Red Ripper won’t stop thinking about them.

Critical Threat. Rust them.

“Thanks for waiting,” Ecksu calls out cheerfully, bringing Zero back to the present. The burger flipper lays down a freshly made reploid burger in front of the warbot.

Zero picks up the fuel and takes a bite. He pauses mid-chew.

Wearing a face as if he’s bracing for impact, Ecksu asks, “Is something wrong?”

Zero swallows. “There’s berlinite in this.” He turns the burger in his hand, examining it. “Barium titanite. Fulscaris. These weren’t in the burger I had before.”

Ecksu relaxes and rests his chin in the palm of his hand against the counter. Whistling softly, he says, “Wow, your electrochemical receptors are top-notch. You’re right. Those materials don’t usually go in the Sufici.”

“Why put them in now?”

Ecksu rubs the back of his head. “You seemed tired.”

At Zero’s questioning gaze, the burger flipper elaborates. “The added ingredients are dielectric. Because they contain piezoelectric properties, they help further boost the electronic brain’s processing power. Fulscaris increases conductivity without being too heavy on the tank. You looked like you were going to short-circuit so I thought they might help you feel better.”

Zero isn’t sure what to think of this. On one hand, the red combatdroid is irked that his control over his gestural outputs has lowered enough for someone he barely knows to sense his weakness.

On the other hand…it’s hard to feel displeased to be on the receiving end of such considerate thoughtfulness.

“This is…” Zero begins.

Ecksu attempts to finish the sentence. “Sweet? Tangy? Salty?”

“…sharp. The taste spreads further and deeper.”

Does that mean salty? Or sour? Acidic maybe? Rust, Zero’s not used to tasting food. He’s not good at this.

Ecksu sighs. “Ah smelt me. I added in more energen to balance the flavor, but I guess I didn’t put in enough. I should have experimented properly before I gave you that one.”

“I think you did fine. I’m not well-versed with all this...fuel variety. Your burgers are the first thing outside of e-tanks I’ve ever consumed.”

Ecks’s eyes widen. “Really? You’ve only had e-tanks? Not even a spark snack?”

“Spark snack?” Zero repeats uncertainly, which seems to answer Ecksu’s question.

“Were you perhaps activated recently?”

Considering the warbot’s memory loss, the day Sigma brought Zero into the Hunters might as well be considered the day he was “born.” Which isn’t that long ago.

Zero nods and Ecksu gains a look of understanding. “I see…”

Then the burger flipper claps his hands together. “Well I’m very excited for you, Zero. The world is a big place and has so many interesting things to explore and enjoy. Like music!" Ecksu crosses his arms and nods sagely to himself. "You strike me as someone who would enjoy music.”

Zero raises a brow. “Music? I’ve heard some but I didn’t really pay attention to it.” The rare times Launch Octopus is at Base away from the ocean, the animaloid would conquer the Common Room, turn on some songs and polish his ballet. Zero wasn’t interested in being an audience when there’s other things to do.  

“Maybe that’s because you haven’t heard one that resonated with you yet. There’s so many songs, so many genres…you can get lost with how many there are.” More seriously, Ecksu advises,” If you ever look them up, be careful about that. Hyper-info absorption is awfully inconvenient.”

Zero continues to eat his burger in silence.

Ecksu tilts his head. “Did I say something wrong?”

The combatdroid’s face pinches. He didn’t think his emotions were that easy to read but this bot is nonchalantly proving him wrong. He'll need to fix that later. 

Zero recovers. “I’m a combat-based model. Not only will my saber lose its edge if I get sidetracked, but I don't have a choice. My primary directive is to fight.”

And if he had a more specific directive, it’s forgotten.

“I disagree.”

Ecksu’s reply is so quick and firm, almost authoritative. The combatdroid raises his head, momentarily struck how the civiloid’s sharp gaze are locked with his own without a visible trace of wariness.

The Red Ripper isn’t familiar with such a gesture coming from people outside of the Hunters. Fritz, within the Hunters too.

Ecksu’s eyes soften. “Sorry, I hope I didn’t come off as rude. You seemed so fatalistic…anyways, what I wanted to say is that you’re not a mech. You’re not designed to solely obey a set of simple commands for the rest of your life. You have taste sensors don’t you? As a robot, you could have easily gone without them and fuel off of e-tanks. Isn’t your ability to taste food proof that you’re allowed to be more than what you initially were?”

_Maybe for other reploids, but not me. I didn’t originally have them._

But Zero is eating and Ecksu is still talking so the warbot keeps that thought to himself.

“You have likes and dislikes. You can think and feel. You can grow. You _are_ growing. Isn’t that also proof that you have the potential to grow beyond your base programming and become whoever you like to be?”

Zero’s quite sure about that. It’s because of programming that combat mode made him come to The Blue Burger again.

But what Ecksu’s saying doesn’t seem wrong either…

“I’m not implying that nothing’s wrong with being a combat-based model,” the burger flipper backtracks quickly. “What I mean is that even if you’re designed to fight, if you don’t want to fight then you can choose not to. You can choose to change your directive. We all have the ability to make choices, Zero.”

Suddenly brightening, Ecksu pounds one fist into an open palm. “In fact, I’m going to prove to you about choices right now. I’m going to make a choice…to see you as my new friend.”

Blinking, Zero swallows down the last of the burger.  

“A friend,” he says neutrally after.

“Yup. You’re my friend now.”

Zero frowns. “What does that mean?”

“Lots of things. Like any relationship, it’s subjective from person to person. For me…to put it simply, it means you’re someone I want to spend more time with.” Ecksu ducks his head slightly, sheepish. "It's fine if you don't see me as your friend. It doesn't change what you are to me." 

“A friend…” Zero repeats quietly to himself.

Does he have anything like that back at Base?

The Hunters took him in and gave him a place to fulfill his directive. They’re his allies…which means that Zero has to cooperate with them regardless he wants their company or not and vice versa. He’s aware that there’s more than a couple Hunters who would exvent easier without the former Maverick’s presence around, but they have to deal with him. They’re coworkers.

 But this bizarre burger-flipping reploid isn’t.

“Why me?” Zero asks, honestly curious. What did he do that this civilian reploid wants to see him more?

Ecksu hums.

“I’m going to make the choice to not tell you now,” he says finally. “I’ll tell you one day. When you make the choice to see me more.”

Then he smiles, slow and wide and singular. His viridian green eyes are filled with something ineffable. It's an expression that feels like it’s only for Zero to see.

The Hunter’s processor statics.

Oh. Now he remembers the _other_ reason he remembered this particular robot.  

 

* * *

 

When Zero returns to Base, his mood is noticeably better. His mind is clearer and though combat mode is the same as always, Zero can tolerate it again. The Crimson Hunter doesn’t feel like he’s going to lash out on some unsuspecting reploid anytime soon.

He’s fully in control.

Before the warbot slinks into his recharge tube, he realizes that while talking to Ecksu he hasn’t thought of the Critical Threat even once.

Ecksu was so genuinely interesting that he had Zero's complete attention. The combatdroid didn't think he'd find anything outside of battle to be that interesting.

 _I want to see him again,_ thinks Zero. 

Wait, this is what Ecksu meant, isn't it? What he means by choices and friends.

Zero feels a decision hardening in his core.

The next time he sees the burger flipper, it won't be because programming dictates he has to scout the food truck. It'll be because Zero personally wants to see Ecksu again.

To see his new _friend_ again.

The tube's glass hisses and closes over the Hunter.

Zero sleeps feeling himself. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gradient is the pink-haired Navigator in the Day of Sigma OVA. I gave her that name to match the Photoshop terminology pattern with Palette and Layer in MMX8.

Zero enters the Command Center and beelines to the Senior Navigator. His expression is carefully blank, belying his agitation. 

Mid-call, the pink-haired operator casts her gaze to Zero and holds up a hand, mouthing “please wait.” 

“…go around the cliff bend. The mine should be right up ahead,” Gradient says aloud in her mic. “Be careful where you shoot. The pillars are old and can collapse, over.” 

After checking the Units under her care one more time, Gradient twists around in her wheelchair to full-bodily face the Crimson Hunter. “Thank you for coming, Zero.”

“You said you found some matches?” Zero asks, brisk to the point.

She nods and whirls back to her console and summons up a list of names. “We can assume from the buster marks on the Irregular that your mysterious reploid wouldn’t be in the firearm registry. No reploid outside of the Hunters is allowed to have anything that powerful. So we went through the NRDB instead.

“Based on the list of characteristics you provided, I found thirty-four reploids in Abel City that checks out three or more traits. Please check and see if any of them matches the one you saw at the Burbrick Breakout.”

Zero opens the attached profiles to the message. He scrolls down, sharp blue eyes narrowing as he picks apart each given reploid.

“Anion, Koeing central plant operator…176 centimeters. That’s too tall.”

“Do you know the approximate height of the reploid?”

“Approximately 160 centimeters.”

“Including or excluding armor?”

“Including armor.”

“Narrowing down profiles to reploids within the 155 to 165 centimeter height range just in case…twenty-seven reploids match with the updated description.”

Zero reads aloud the next profile. “Girder, Combwell semiconductor engineer…height and build seems right…combustion based accelerators? I didn’t smell any petroleum.”

“No petrol engine or combustion tank…that takes away the construction-based model lines...”

The filtering process continues until there’s four reploids yet. Bernou, Ronthrop Companies electrical assembly technician: wrong shade of blue.  Pneuma, Cadence Aerospace sheet metal assembler and riveter: wrong wings. Scalar, high-rise window cleaner: janitorial model series, design is completely off. Thevenin, Zirkus des Mondes stage lighting specialist: wrong shade of blue and _completely off_ wing design.

In the end there’s no match.

Zero pulls away from the screen, crossing his arms. “This means the reploid I saw had an illegal custom job.”

“And they're equipped with a Class Five energy weapon,” Gradient adds, somber. Her hands fly across the keyboard, typing rapidly. “Are you sure you didn’t recognize the buster they used?”

“If they didn’t modify the buster to the point it’s unidentifiable then it’s a custom make. It doesn’t look like any of the models I’ve seen.”

“Then we can’t narrow down the manufacturer. There’s no lead to follow except the description you gave.” Gradient leans back in her seat. “The Hunters can’t do anything about it.” 

“We can’t?”

“Unless this reploid pops up again they’re basically a ghost.”

Zero glares at the console as if the device is deliberately withholding information from him. Zero is no closer to hunting down the Critical Threat than before, but since this reploid is breaking several laws they’re technically a Maverick.

Which means if Zero ever sees them again he’s justified in taking them down.

 _Someone with that much power can’t hide forever,_ thinks Zero sometime later as he walks down a hallway. _They’ll show up._

And when they do, the Red Ripper will be there to meet them.

Combat mode stirs up lazily and Zero halts in his tracks. Then he becomes acutely aware of the distant sounds of shouting and banging echoing down the corridor.

Interest piqued, the warbot trails it down until he reaches the door where the commotion is coming from.

 _It’s the Common Room_ , he recognizes. He opens the door.

Zero hasn’t laid a single step in when a lounge armchair comes flying towards him. The combatdroid nonchalantly backhands the soft furniture to the side with one hand, his other hand already midway rising to his saber hilt.

Zero relaxes when he understands what’s happening. Before him is Flame Mammoth and Chill Penguin surrounded by upturned furniture and engaged in yet another insignificant squabble, wholly immersed in their shouting match that they didn’t notice that Zero has walked in at all. In fact, none of the onlookers circling them has noticed their new arrival except for Vile who gives Zero a dismissive glance before returning his attention to the two animaloids, giddy.

“Who would ever need to go to the artic?” Flame Mammoth sneers. “You know why you get sent there? It’s because nothing happens and sending you there doesn’t make a difference to the rest of the Hunters.”

“Like anything happens in the desert either!” Chill Penguin shoots back disdainfully. “I’d like to see you try lasting ten seconds in the artic! All that disgusting crude in your obnoxious scraptank won’t help you then!”

“My tank is two times bigger than everything that makes you. Smelt me, how is someone so tiny like you can be so slagging loud? Or are you putting in the effort to be over-the-top whiny because you need the attention?” The mammoth animaloid breaks out in guffaws. “I don’t blame you. Since you’re so short, it must be hard for people to look down and find you.”

_“Go dunk in acid you arrogant, overlarge piece of - !”_

Chill Penguin has become so irate that his venom-laced curses devolve into unintelligible squawking though Zero can pick out “freeze your smelting trunk off” and “shatter your optics” in there.

“Fight fight fight!” Vile chants gleefully from the sidelines. Half of the other Hunters join him quickly after.

“Hey, if you’re going to duke it out, take it to the spar room!” the Hunter nearest to Zero shouts out.

“Like they can do anything without making an oil spill out of it again,” someone snipes back quickly after. “Just let them scream at each other.”

Zero watches mutely.

When Zero first entered into the Maverick Hunters, he wanted to know where each Hunter stood. Scrutinize the power dynamics and gain a better understanding of the strict social hierarchy that tends to seep among groups of combat-based robots. He’d participate enough to be sufficiently viewed as an ally yet keep enough distance so no one would make the mistake of believing him to be part of any particular side.

Now Zero can’t find it in him to muster up an interest. Can only angle his head and witness the petty squabble devolve into further inanity.

What’s the point for Flame Mammoth and Chill Penguin being constantly at each other’s cables if nothing comes out of it? What’s the point if they’ll grudgingly tolerate each other if Sigma issues a job that’s bigger than them - only to wind back to this dull status quo once the mission’s over? Rust, these two animaloids’ domains are the complete opposite, it’s not like they’ll ever overlap. Don’t they ever get tired of this tediousness over and over again?

If they despise each other so much why don’t they offline each other already?

 _Control_ , Zero hisses to himself when he feels the familiar desire to commit violence bubbles to the surface. He turns heel and leaves the increasingly raucous room – this spectacle is _not_ helping him – exventing in low, harsh breaths.

He needs to calm down.

Good thing that Zero knows a way to achieve that.  

 

* * *

 

“Welcome back, Zero!” The burger flipper greets with a grin when the Hunter strolls up to the serving window. 

“Ecksu,” Zero acknowledges, tension bleeding out of him. It’s hard not to be at ease in the presence of someone who’s so emotionally free and open.

The Hunter isn’t used to seeing someone who seems happy to see him and Ecksu’s smile grows ever so slightly every time Zero comes by. In the Hunter’s line of work, he tends to receive the opposite reaction.

The novelty hasn’t faded yet. The warbot hopes it doesn’t anytime soon.

“Are you here for a burger?” asks Ecksu.

Zero shakes his head. “I went on a patrol earlier and I still have yesterday’s Tudo in my tanks.”

“Aw, then you’re here for the company,” Ecksu beams before adding offhandedly, “I told you the Tudo was going to be heavy.”

“You only have two energen-based options and I already tried the Sufici,” Zero deadpans.

“I wrote on my menu that the Tudo was a ‘Mega-Sufici’ so you can’t say that you weren’t warned,” Ecksu points out with a smirk.

“Most menus would state different sizes under the same food. By distinguishing the two items apart, you’re implying that there’s a major difference.” Zero crosses his arms. “If I had known that I was going to have a Sufici with the three times the amount of energen…”

“Isn’t that a major difference though? The Tudo isn’t _proportionately_ bigger than the Sufici.”

Zero pauses. “I can see your point,” he concedes finally.

Peering at his menu board hung at the side, the chef reploid hums thoughtfully. “You do bring up an interesting idea. The options I have for reploids are awfully limited compare to the ones I have for humans. But so far no one has made any complaints against them…”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you cater to solely reploids? Having to carry and maintain the ingredients and equipment for completely separate fuel groups must be inconvenient,” says Zero, sending a look at the kitchen behind the other robot for good measure.

“It can be but I don’t mind. I like seeing both reploids and humans enjoy my food. Being able to personally prepare and serve the food I make to both peoples is part of the joy. Otherwise I’d get a mechaniloid to do most of my work.”

Ah that’s right. Ecksu is a culinary-based civiloid; he probably has a directive that must be along the lines of feeding as many customers as possible, or cooking as much as possible. Either way, carrying out the task must be fulfilling. Zero can’t fault the other robot for that.

If that’s the case…

Zero takes out his card. “I want a Sufici.”

Ecksu blinks. He reaches out to accept the card. “Didn’t you say you were full?”

“I’m taking it to-go,” Zero amends. “I can have it later. It’s made out of inorganic ingredients so it won’t perish in a couple of hours, correct?”

After swiping, Ecksu hands back the card. “My burgers can last longer than that. However, I don’t recommend anyone saving them for more than a day. For one, the texture is best when it’s freshly warm and it’s not something you can easily reheat in a microwave.” Ecksu stops mid motion from grabbing some vials from a cabinet, eyes wide. “Oh fritz, I should put a warning label on my burgers. The metals won’t react well with microwaves.”

Zero gives a look. “You realized this _now?”_

“Most reploids eat my burgers at the spot!” Ecksu cries. More hushed, he says, “I don’t think anyone has taken them home, let alone reheated them in a microwave. If they did, I would have heard it by now.”

“Unless your burgers explode and take the bot down with it.”

Gawking, Ecksu splutters,” Zero!”

“Unlike you, most reploids generally wear armor,” the combatdroid says matter-of-factly over his private amusement. “Even if your burgers can explode, I doubt it can hurt a reploid.”

“My burgers are _not_ explosive,” says Ecksu exasperatedly as he resumes back to work. “The worst that can happen is that the burger catches on fire. If a reploid takes a bite out of the burger and puts it in the microwave, any sharp edges from the bite mark can accumulate too many electrons and can spark. It’s no different then putting in crinkled aluminum.”

“If that’s the case then you don’t need to put a warning then.”

“I think it might still be a good idea anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to add a warning on the to-go bag. People can make mistakes…alright, here you go.”

Ecksu makes the motion to the put the paper bag on the counter then hesitates. “Wait a second.” He searches over his counter, eyes lighting up when he finds a pen and hurries to uncap it. He scribbles something hasty across one side then turns the bag around.

“Now you can take the burger,” he says in utter seriousness.

Zero squints. “’If you love me, don’t nuke me,’” he deadpans in a voice so dry a desert would feel insecure.

Zero stares at Ecksu. Ecksu returns the stare evenly. Then a second later the civiloid’s lips twitch at the corner. A soft noise putters out and Ecksu’s hands fly up to his mouth.

Before Zero can assume that Ecksu is actually malfunctioning, the shorter robot breaks out in pure, unadulterated laughter. He drops his arms so they can wrap around his own waist. His shoulders and chest shake. One hand shoots out to slap the counter twice and Zero boggles when the Hunter spots tears gathering at the other robot’s eyes.

“I’m sorry!” Ecksu hiccups. “Your face, you looked _so_ unimpressed –“ he can’t finish before he’s laughing again.

Bewildered, Zero can only watch in silent wonder. A part of him briefly muses if he’s supposed to be insulted, but overall he can’t help but be fascinated. 

This is another reaction he’s not used to seeing either.

 

* * *

 

Further investigation into the Irregulars from the Burbrick Breakout reveals that the cause of the rogue Clawhandlers was from a series of genuine coding errors; incompetent programmers tried to mainstream the process of the mechs’ multiple abilities, didn’t secure safety precautions, and it all spiraled down into an oil spill. Ultimately, the case is closed.

Zero throws himself into hunting.

For the next two weeks, Zero stays busy. He goes on patrols, engages with Irregulars and Mavericks alike, and carries out three missions. So far he has tracked down a burglar who got away with 1,100,250 zennies worth of jewelries, busted down an underground gunsmith workshop, and acted as a bodyguard for an unpopular reploid scientist (who received an awe-staggering number of death threats from both reploids _and_ humans) at a ballroom party. 

Which means, for two weeks nothing of great import happens.

Because during the entire time the Critical Threat hasn’t shown up. At all.

 

* * *

 

Zero comes to The Blue Burger at the tail end of another lunch rush. Most of the people in the market lot are idle loiterers half-way through their long-purchased meals, their mission to seek sustenance accomplished. The last person in the line for the modest food truck walks away by the time the Hunter strides up to the window.

“Hey, Zero!” Ecksu says when Zero comes into view. “Here for the usual Sufici?”

“A little later.”

“That’s fine. So how are…” the civiloid trails off. His smile drops for a concerned expression. “Is everything alright, Zero?”

The warbot subtly stiffens as he reaches for his meal. “Why do you ask?”

The burger flipper raises a hand to his chin in a contemplating manner. “I may be wrong but…you seem a bit frustrated?”

Zero keeps his face carefully blank as he bites into his fuel. Scrap, Ecksu is sharp. Is that normal? Are civiloids normally this observant? Who would install such sharp emotional awareness in a food service reploid to begin with?

Wait, service reploids probably require such high observational skills to be extra cautious to the meals they prepare and the customers they serve. This makes sense.

With that thought, Zero’s wariness goes down, leaving behind self-targeted irritation in its place. He’s an A-Rank Hunter and he’s being alert around _Ecksu,_ a civiloid who flips burgers for a living? Fritz, combat mode needs to stop going bolts.

When the quiet continues for a long minute, the warbot realizes that the other robot is waiting for an answer.

“It’s work,” he complies shortly.

“Ah. Would you like to vent about it?” asks Ecksu glancing up from his grill top, seemingly unbothered by Zero’s curt response.

Zero frowns confusedly. “…My ventilations operate on subroutine.” Unless he manually turns it off but that’s moronic.  

“Your – “ Ecksu cuts himself off with a smile. “No, venting has another meaning. It means talking about what’s bothering you so you can feel better.”  

The warbot is skeptical. “Does that really help?”

“Personally I think so,” Ecksu encourages. “By exercising your communication and locomotor nodes, you’re using your frontal processing power to organize and filter the information. It distributes power away from your emotional module and can let it cool down.”

“Don’t we do that when we recharge anyway?”

“We do, but our background processes don’t discriminate what information we want to keep or discard when we sleep. They focus on what they _think_ we need so it’s common for reploids to develop tunnel vision. The defrags we have during recharge can work against us. In that sense, talking can be more helpful instead of leaving our problems up to daemon.”  

“…For someone who makes burgers for a functioning, you seem to know a lot about reploid neurophysiology,” remarks Zero.  

Ecksu, who was leaning incrementally throughout the conversation, pulls away from the window, suddenly rechecking how many tomatoes he has left. “Oh, not really. I like to watch a lot of documentaries, read an article here and there – I mean, it’s really interesting to understand how our constructs generally work and there’s so much information online so anyone can learn a thing or two. Really accessible information, anyone can learn so I’m just repeating what some scientists say – “

“Ecksu, is this what venting is?” Zero interrupts with a raised brow.

Ecksu clamps up. Then he grimaces. “No, not really. That was blabbing.” He rakes through his brown hair with a hand. “Sorry, I got embarrassed. I didn’t realize I was bloviating earlier until you pointed it out. I must seem egocentric acting like I’m…” he chuckles awkwardly. “I don’t know, some certified roboticist when, y’know. I’m not.”

“Not really,” Zero disagrees, tossing his emptied burger container into the small, provided waste bin by him. “Technically since you serve fuel, your work does relate to reploid maintenance.” He smiles approvingly. “That’s how you know what materials to add to a burger when someone is tired. Watching those documentaries must be helping you improve.”

“…Yeah, you’re right,” says the burger flipper, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think of it that way. Thanks Zero. Sometimes I get caught up on how people see me…”

Ecksu shakes his head. “Anyways, we really strayed off-topic. Do you want to talk about what’s going on with work?”

Zero huffs. “I can’t share. It’s confidential.” Then his face softens. “Even if I can tell, I don’t need to anymore. Just being with you helps.”

“It does?”

Zero nods. Without Ecksu’s company to occupy him, Zero would be going bolts at the stagnancy. Yes, he can take on all the patrols and missions he likes – and he _did_ in the past two weeks - but they’re not enough. All Hunter-related work seems trivial compare to this vague, oppressing shadow of a behemoth lurking somewhere out there. Every time Zero whips out his buster or his saber, he’s only reminded that he’s not fighting the true threat.

This anticipation is gnawing him inside out.

_If only the rusting reploid would just come out already -_

“Well I’m glad that I can help,” Ecksu chirps, beaming. “I like being with you too. Sometimes you remind me that it’s okay for me to be me.”

Before Zero can ask for an elaboration, Ecksu claps his hands together and says, “Well, how about we talk about something else to help you take your mind off of work then? I just thought of something. Didn’t you once say you never had a spark snack? Want to try some?”

“Sure.”

The burger flipper ruffles into a pocket of his lab coat and fishes out a small plastic bag decorated in graphic explosions. He tears the top off, digs out what looks like colorful crystal shards into Zero’s awaiting hand.

The warbot tosses them in his mouth.   

“How is it?” Ecksu asks, leaning over the counter further. His bright green eyes are intent on Zero for the warbot’s reaction. Every now and then they glance behind the combatdroid, alert for any customers but Zero is certain no one is going to come. He doesn’t need to rely on his proximity sensors to know that no one is coming towards this direction. 

The Crimson Hunter is trying to stop his face from twitching too much. Considering that the spark snack – which very much functions to its name – is literally popping and sizzling inside his mouth, it’s a difficult endeavor.

Zero checks into his system logs, sees which of his taste receptors are responding the most, and answers,” Sweet.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s not useful. At least it’s not filling.” Which means it won’t waste too much space in Zero’s tanks.

A corner of Ecksu’s lips twitches upwards. “It’s not the matter of whether it’s useful or not. What matters is if _you_ like it.”

“Because it’s not useful, I don’t like it,” Zero replies bluntly.

Slumping, Ecksu says, “You know, food doesn’t have to be nutritious for you to like them. You’re allowed to eat and enjoy junk food.”   

“Why should I eat junk food when a more efficient alternative exists?” Zero shoots back.

“Because you like the taste? Or the texture?” Ecksu tries.

“Sustenance that has acceptable taste, texture, and nutrition do exist. I can consume that.”

“Like an e-tank,” says Ecksu blandly.

“That’s one.” Zero pauses. “Your burgers also fit the criteria. They’re perfect.”

The burger flipper smiles. “Zero, I’d be flattered, but…”

The warbot stares, waiting patiently for the other robot to continue.

“You haven’t tried much outside of e-tanks. In fact, you’re trying a spark snack because I gave you one.” Ecksu’s voice takes on a deliberately innocent and lilted tone. “I would believe in your compliment more if you tried other foods like Beatra’s for example…”

“How are you running a business when you keep encouraging your customers to order from your competitors?” questions Zero sharply. “I may not work in goods and services, but I’m confident that this is what bad advertisement looks like.”

Ecksu draws back, spluttering but his curved up lips give away his amusement. “Fritz, I can’t recommend my friend to eat good food from my other friends, Zero?”

This time it’s Zero who’s taken aback. “Your other friends?”

“I’m pretty well-acquainted with most of the food truck owners here,” explains Ecksu. “Since we all have different specialties, we’d trade fuels. For example, Wintry Wallaby down at Coil and Chill serves these thermal paste snacks that are great for dessert. I give her burgers and she gives me ice cream. Any reploid who likes to have something light and frosty to consume, I send them her way - unless they’re a fire-based reploid. Then I direct them to the Graw Grill.”

That…makes sense.

Of course Ecksu would be friends with the other civilian models in this lane. Because he regularly parks his truck here, Ecksu most likely has known these other truck owners for quite some time. Also, it’s beneficial in the long-run to form alliances with his competitors. They mutually aid each other financially by recommending each other’s services depending on the customer.

Ecksu is merely being strategic. He’s not making friends with just any run-of-the-belt bot. That’s dumb and Ecksu is far from being dumb. A bit eccentric, but not dumb.

“Hey Zero, is it me or does that animaloid over there looks like they’re going to break down?”

Ecksu’s green eyes are looking at something pass the Hunter. Following the other robot’s gaze, Zero turns without any rush – threat assessment and defensive systems haven’t fluctuated – and spots a nervous animaloid a couple paces away.

The animaloid’s back is hunched so low that their full height is crippled to nearly match Zero’s. Zero doesn’t see why they warrant any attention; the animaloid is just standing in the middle of the road, black snout darting side to side as the rest of the market visitors flow around them like a rock in a river. Tiny puffs of grey smoke leave from the numerous holes in their spine.

“Hey!” Ecksu shouts suddenly, waving at the animaloid.

While several pedestrians glance at Ecksu curiously, turning away when they realize the burger flipper isn’t looking at them, the animaloid jolts violently as if slapped. They look at Ecksu, look behind them, then back to Ecksu, pointing at themself mouthing,” Me?”

“Yeah. Got a minute to spare?”

The animaloid pads to the truck slowly. Zero sidesteps, watching the exchange with some curiosity.

“I haven’t seen you here before. Is this your first time here?” the burger flipper asks kindly.

“Y-yeah.”

“That’s great,” says Ecksu. “It’s always nice to see some new faces around here. I’m Ecksu. He, him pronouns.”

“Flame Hyenard. Uh. He, him, too.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Flame Hyenard. So how’s it going? You look like you were searching for something. Trying to find out what to eat?”

“I, um, not really. I mean, I am searching for something, well, someone, not something…came to see a friend b-but I can’t find him, or maybe he didn’t come yet - but he _said_ he did come a bit ago but I don’t see him and he’s not picking up my call and this place is really big so I’m …nghhh I don’t know…”

Zero dials down his aural settings; Hyenard’s voice sounds strangled and scratchy as if his vocal unit is sparking up. When it comes out in such a stilted manner like that, it’s nearing uncomfortable.

“That’s alright!” says Ecksu with a bright, shining smile, unaffected. “You can keep me company until your friend comes.”

The Crimson Hunter stills.

Wait _._ What? Wasn’t _he_ keeping Ecksu company?

“This place can be overwhelming if it’s your first time here,” Ecksu continues sympathetically. “But once you get used to it, you can have a lot of fun here! There’s these street performers near the fountain who…”

Zero silently watches the exchange between Ecksu and Flame Hyenard, which is really Ecksu carrying a largely one-sided conversation with the animaloid. Eventually Hyenard starts appearing less agitated, even contributing a few words without prompted.

“Oh there’s something stuck inside one of the holes in your back…”

Jerking, Flame Hyenard swirls in place, his bulky fingers scrabbling uselessly at his back. “What is it? Where is it? Ugh, not again…”

“I’m not sure. If you bend down and come a bit closer, I think can take it out for you.”

“F-fire comes out of my spine, it’s not an ex-exhaust system. It’s really hot…” Hyenard stutters though he’s already shuffling closer to Ecksu’s outstretched hand, turning to the side to mind the counter and the truck’s awning. Zero would protest at the risk if it weren’t for Ecksu’s determined expression.

“If I couldn’t handle the heat, I wouldn’t work in a kitchen,” Ecksu quips back confidently. The chef reploid taps on the third vertebrae down along the animaloid’s spine. “Huh. That’s weird. You’ve got metal in there.”

“Aw scrap me. I work in a waste management facility,” the hyena-based reploid moans. “Junk bits keep on getting in there and I don’t always burn them all…”

“That’s alright, I can take it out. I need to use a bit more strength, is that okay?”

Flame Hyenard nods and Ecksu lays – lays a rusting hand on the side of the animaloid’s chest, fingers curling over one of the numerous cables stretched around Hyenard’s torso, face bowing close and neck vulnerably open. Hyenard is visibly trembling at the rare contact - because who would voluntarily touch something so dangerous?

Green eyes light up with a “ah-ha!” Ecksu procures out an unrecognizable, burnt thing, triumphant. ”Got it! Wow, I can’t believe you walked around with this in. Be right back, I’m going to throw this away.”

Then Ecksu pats twice in a casual, comforting gesture and Flame Hyenard _shivers_ at the gentle touch as the burger flipper turns back into the kitchen, and Zero bristles at the realization once he sees Hyenard’s dark optics focusing at the innocent and _stupid civilian model who doesn’t realize what he just did_  –

Intervention now. 

“Did your friend inform you where the rendezvous point is?” Zero speaks out neutrally.

Flame Hyenard, who’s giving his back a couple good rolls, jumps at the Hunter’s voice. “U-uh, what? Oh, um, he said…I think it was the Graw Grill…”

Zero jerks his head down the road. “Go down six trucks and you’ll locate it. You should go there in case your friend is already there waiting for you.”

 _The friend who_ isn’t _Ecksu._

“Um…” The animaloid says lamely, snout contorted in confusion until Zero flat-out glowers at the taller robot under his horned, blood red helmet. “Y-yeah, um...”

Hesitant, Hyenard looks back at Ecksu and Zero clenches his right hand so it doesn’t turn into a buster.

Exventing harshly, the Crimson Hunter takes a step closer to hyena reploid and says,” I’ve been around plenty of animaloids – specialized, combat-oriented models who occupy alpha positions. In the Maverick Hunters.” Who all have the subtlety of an eight-ton truck - more than enough for Zero to pick up a few behavioral patterns. “I know exactly what you’re assuming. Your assumption is incorrect. Ecksu isn’t exhibiting subordination. He’s being friendly.” To a ridiculous, excessively ignorant degree.

Hyenard’s droopy eyes widen. He stammers,” N-no, I wasn’t thinking about making him p-pack…“ but it’s _very_ unconvincing and the fact the hyena animaloid mentioned the word "pack" has Zero flat out _burning_ with contained fury.

The warbot rails on ruthlessly. “It’s one thing if you’re considering affinity. It’s another if you want more. So let me put this in terms you’ll understand: you’re encroaching _my_ territory. Attempt anything and you’ll be challenging _me.”_

Flame Hyenard glances between the crimson combatdroid and The Blue Burger meaningfully. “…Ah.”

By the time Ecksu comes back, Hyenard has already scampered a fair distance away. “Huh, where did Flame Hyenard go?” the chef reploid asks Zero.

“To the Graw Grill. That’s where he needed to meet his friend.”

“Oh! I thought he didn’t know where to go. Fritz, I should have asked him that first.”

“Well, he’s gone now,” says Zero, feeling productive. He raises his card. “Hey Ecksu, can I get a Sufici?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyenard: Huh, this reploid is being REAL nice...  
> Zero: BUT HE AIN’T FREE REAL ESTATE. 
> 
> Never before I'd think I'd find a use for Flame Hyenard. I also didn’t think I’d ever feel sorry for him, but wow, I did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I moved to a new country so this fic came a bit late. On the other hand, it's twice as long- specifically, 9k long whoooo!

Ever since the incident with Flame Hyenard, Zero has arrived to an annoying realization: while The Blue Burger enjoys a moderate level of popularity, clearly the warbot has underestimated how popular the truck owner can be.

Which means he needs to evaluate every customer that approaches Ecksu’s truck whose agenda may not be limited to acquiring delicious burgers.

Sure, Ecksu technically doesn’t need to be guarded to such a degree (after all, who would target such an innocent civiloid?), but the idea that Ecksu’s social attentions may be further divided vexes Zero to no small amount of degree.

Logically, the warbot must restrict such probabilities and so such an event does not happen. Now the red combatdroid makes it his personal duty to thwart anyone else’s unseemly goals concerning Ecksu.

It has become a productive pastime outside of Hunter duty that he falls into easily, and it’s quickly proving to be necessary. A few days ago, a previously irrelevant reploid approached Zero, shyly and slyly asking the warbot if he drops by the burger truck frequently. The question seemed innocuous until the Hunter remembered seeing her design hovering around the truck for some time. Of course she knew that Zero is a routine consumer of Ecksu’s fuel – which means, she _must_ be conducting recon on his new, unofficial patrol hours to avoid him.

The combatdroid stated yes, he does visit the truck - to be around _Ecksu_ , emphasizing that the burger flipper is indeed under the Elite Hunter’s protection - and is satisfied to see her stalk off, defeated.  

So far, the security routine has been successful. Zero is sufficient in keeping Ecksu focused.

Zero comes to The Blue Burger on a hazy twilight hour when no one waiting in line. It’s a slow period and the warbot spots the burger truck’s owner resting his chin on one hand against the counter, peering down on a datapad.

It’s only when Zero comes closer that he can pick up the low volume of what sounds like a news report playing on the screen.

“What are you watching?” the Hunter asks as he grabs a stool like home.

Ecksu’s head snaps up. “Oh, hi Zero. I’m just catching up on what happened last night.”

Zero’s eyes flit to the video and recognizes the Hunters. “Lambda’s Unit. Headquarters was irked about the situation.”

Which is an understatement. Zero wasn’t personally part of the arrest, but so many Hunters were talking about it this morning that he has the general gist of what occurred: a human man was punched in the face by a reploid waitress at a karaoke bar club. The fight escalated, someone called the Hunters, and the waitress was detained.

Ecksu looks back down on the video, lips pursed. “It’s getting controversial. There are different sides of the story circulating online. The waitress’ friends said that the man hit her first, but the man’s friends say that he wasn’t doing anything, and there aren’t any recordings to confirm what happened. That’s so strange. Why isn’t there any footage of this?”

“The investigation is still going. It only happened last night,” Zero points out, more intrigued by Ecksu’s investment in the case than the case itself.

“I guess so…” Ecksu trails off, frowning deeply. He’s watching the moment when the waitress is sullenly getting into the Hunter’s transit while a couple Hunters hold bystanders back from coming closer. The camera zooms into one of the bystanders: a reploid whose design seems to be based on a dark flower, screaming curses and obscenities from the sidelines. Two Hunters are holding her back.

Ecksu pauses the screen at the reploid’s infuriated expression. He appears frustrated. “Ugh, this is also the third time this month that there were too many Hunters who -” He tightly clamps up, glancing at Zero apprehensively.

“Too many Hunters who…?” prompts the A Rank Hunter, genuinely curious.

“…That there were too many Hunters who responded and the fight was…brutal.” Ecksu squirms. “That seems to be an unfortunate, common thing that’s happening these days…”

“I agree with you.”

Ecksu’s eyes widen but Zero is looking down, cupping his chin in a contemplative manner. “There was a disproportionate number of Hunters who arrived to the scene. I personally think it’s a waste of resources that could have been put to better use. I don’t think anyone else back in Base was pleased about it either.”

“Really?” says Ecksu, refocusing at Zero greatly.

The Crimson Hunter nods. “Apparently whoever called the Hunters severely overreacted for what we ultimately viewed as minor. But it’s not like we can risk underestimating threats considering the work we do. If we deploy less power then the situation requires we could have collateral that could have been prevented.”

Ecksu bites his lower lip. “Still, I’m not fond of the notion of shooting first and asking questions later. The Hunters are comprised of competent, well-equipped reploids designed for combat. Aren’t the Hunters strong enough to be gentle?”

Zero glances to the side, huffing through his nose softly. “I personally don’t think so. Some of us are strong, but not all of us are. The Hunters can be equipped with top of the line weaponry and assets, and there can _still_ be someone out there who can be stronger than all of them put together. All because there’s another robot out there that somehow got equipped with a bigger buster than they do. If the Hunters hesitate then they risk being the ones suffering collateral.”

For example, losing an entire Unit to a malfunctioning killer robot in the middle of nowhere. Zero is not so arrogant to believe that his situation was a unique case.

The Critical Threat is still out there.

After that, a silence falls over the truck. The only sounds are distant traffic and restless birds for company. Ecksu is processing the information with a conflicted expression.

Zero isn’t surprised. Of course Ecksu wouldn’t understand. He isn’t outfitted for combat. Perhaps the violent efficiency the Hunters carry themselves would be frightening to someone kind as Ecksu. A combatdroid like Zero can’t fault the burger flipper to know why the Hunter does the things he does.

Still, there’s something about how uneasy Ecksu looks that’s making Zero uneasy too.

Slowly, the warbot says, “However…the Hunters’ motto is to be the sword and shield for those who can’t protect themselves. Overall, our directive is oriented to innocent civilians, which includes you. If you think that we’re overdoing it then perhaps we are. We can afford to be gentler.”

Ecksu’s head snaps up. He’s staring at Zero so intensely that it crosses Zero’s wires. “I…I didn’t expect you to say that.”

Zero blinks. “Then what did you expect?”

The burger flipper shrugs philosophically. “Well, something not what you said? I don’t know, you strike me as someone who…”

“Someone who?” Zero encourages again. He wants to know what Ecksu thinks of him.

But Ecksu shakes his head, laughing awkwardly in a way that even the Hunter knows is forced. “Anyways, we really drifted off into such heavy stuff when I’m supposed to be working. So, what would you like to have?”

What an obvious dodge of the subject. Unsatisfied, Zero says,” I’m the only customer here and I’m your friend. You don’t need to strictly adhere to your directive as a food service worker with me. What were you going to say?”

“Well, you’re a Hunter and the Hunters tend to lean on the violent side because of the work they do,” Ecksu ends a bit lamely. “So I didn’t think you’d give what I say any consideration concerning the matter. I’m used to people not taking me seriously. In fact, I’m more used to people looking at me, make their judgments, and assume that I’m not anyone worth listening to.”

Ah, Zero remembers now. Those who work in food service tend to be looked down upon even though they’re fulfilling their directive just like the next individual. That must be what Ecksu means.

“That won’t be me,” affirms Zero. “I’ll always take you seriously. I value you and by extension I value what you have to say.”

“…Thanks Zero, that really means a lot to me,” says Ecksu. “I’m really glad that you’re my friend.”

“Speaking of which, why did you want to be my friend?” the warbot asks, this line of thought reminding him. “You said you would tell me after I make the choice to see you more. Retrospectively, I still can’t see why you did. We’re very different.”

“Are we? We’re both reploids,” Ecksu points out, lips twitching upward, amused at a joke Zero doesn’t know.

“But our directives and designs are different. You can’t deny that we’re not programmed the same way.”

“Hmm, I suppose we are,” says Ecksu agreeably. “And that’s part of why I wanted to get to know you better. I was curious about you.”

“…That’s it?”

Ecksu laughs and it sounds more genuine this time. “You sound disappointed.”

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Zero admits.

“Then what did you expect?” Ecksu echoes back Zero from earlier, visibly amused.

“Not curiosity. It’s weak reasoning.”

It’s not only underwhelming it’s so…typical. When the former Maverick was first inducted into the Hunters, the only reason that most other reploids got over their initial wariness towards him was because of curiosity. The other Hunters clamored to him, probing into backgrounds Zero forgot everything about, and when their curiosity ran dry they left him alone.

If Ecksu is going to be the same and follow the pattern…

“Is it really? I think curiosity is pretty powerful,” Ecksu starts, tone calm yet something vibrates underneath it. “If it weren’t for curiosity, humans would never have it within them to go out and explore the world. They wouldn’t try to excavate ruins to learn more about this world’s history. They would never try anything new and make any of the wonderful technological advances we have now. If it weren’t for curiosity, robots and consequently reploids wouldn’t exist.”

Ecksu leans in, speaking so softly that it compels Zero to lean in a little as well. “I don’t like to hop into conclusions without evidence, but is it okay to assume that you at least enjoy my company?” says the unarmored reploid, eyes twinkling. “I hope it’s more than the food that brings you back.”

Stunned silent, Zero can only nod stiffly. Ecksu draws back and Zero almost follows him.

Ecksu widely grins, a sunny expression that warms away the last of Zero’s darkening mood away. “Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. It’s what drew me to you and it’s what brought you to keep coming back to me. When you see it like that, isn’t it great?”

_Keep coming back to me._

“Yes,” Zero agrees softly, feeling a tendril of…of something deep and warm pooling through him, some emotion that he’s not used to and doesn’t know the name.

It’s foreign and dangerous. The rumbling anticipation before a wild fight except there isn’t an enemy in sight, it’s only him and Ecksu and instead of ending it Zero just wants _more._

The desire comes across like a hot flash, unbidden and strong like a wave and Zero’s hand twitches by his side and it slowly goes up without his conscious permission, like his motor subroutine dislodged, and it’s rising pass the counter.

Ecksu glances at the motion minutely before those viridian eyes are locked with Zero’s again. The smaller android isn’t asking or stopping, simply watching Zero with open curiosity, which the warbot is definitely partial to _that_ now –

“Hi I’m here for a burger,” interrupts a third voice behind Zero, ruining everything ever.

It takes every byte of willpower in that split second for Zero to not whip out his saber and slice down whatever managed to completely sneak up to him from behind. However, he does whirl around, receiving a, “Ach! Be careful with your hair – I almost got a whiplash!”

Zero glares, slightly bewildered at what he finds.

It’s just a human. A very weak and old human if the bushy white facial hair and sagging wrinkles are any indication. Strange one too, since he’s wearing a wide brim hat and sunglasses when the sun is ready to dip under the horizon.

No wonder Zero didn’t sense him. Threat assessment had already evaluated and dismissed the man to be no better than furniture. To combat mode, the man might as well be his wheelchair.

Still, Zero is rubbed _acid_ by this unwelcome stranger (did he really needed to show up now among all times? Something was _happening_ ). Hopefully, the human orders his meal to-go and wheel away.

“Doctor!” enthuses Ecksu, his entire demeanor livening up. “What brings you all the way here?”

…Not a complete stranger then. It seems Ecksu is familiar with this particular human. Elevating the human’s status from furniture to not-furniture.

The human adjusts his black mirror sunglasses. “What, I can’t see how you’re doing every now and then?”

“Of course not! But it must be a hassle to come on your own and I _do_ have a truck now…”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not the only one with wheels,” the man quips, tapping his chair arm to punctuate. “I came back checking on my boy, and since I was in the neighborhood, I thought ‘why don’t I get a good ol’ fashion burger for once?’ And now I’m here. Also, didn’t I tell you to just call me Mark?”

“It’s a habit,” Ecksu says, rolling his eyes fondly. “Anyways, you wanted a burger, yes? What would you like?”

“I’ll have a Mega-Double Cheeseburger and a coke.”

“One Mega Cheeseburger with extra vegetables and an herb tea coming right up,” Ecksu calls back cheerfully.

“Hey, you don’t need to watch my sodium intake for me!” Mark shouts indignantly.

“I doubt your son would agree,” Ecksu says in a sing-song manner. Then to Zero he asks,” I didn’t ask earlier, but did you wanted to order something too?”

“A Sufici,” Zero says aloof, hiding his increasing vexation of the casual exchange before him. Ecksu nods and, to Mark’s exasperation, sets up a kettle on the stove. The Blue Burger stirs back into work.

The human called Mark flops back into his chair with a snort. “Pfft, ridiculous robot.” He must have noticed that Zero is studying him because the human asks,” Do I have something on my face?”

Zero doesn’t answer. He isn’t sure what to make of this situation.

Mark is in friendly terms with Ecksu and is a human. The man is not an animaloid, combatdroid, or anything. He’s not a robot and so Zero is a bit at a loss on how to evaluate him.

Up to this point, Zero only bothered with humans as people who needed to be rescued during attacks. Therefore, he only needed to learn on how to handle them in that particular situation, which – according to Commander Sigma - basically amounts to, “don’t use full strength, don’t yell at them, don’t tell them to stop crying - in fact, minimize contact as much as possible because if you say something wrong, _I_ have to deal with it as Commander so don’t make my life harder than it should be.”

…But that’s during Maverick Hunter duty. And Zero doesn’t need to be a Maverick Hunter right now, does he?

Zero is allowed to directly confront this man.

Crossing his arms, the warbot demands, “Who are you to Ecksu?”

Mark blinks. “Eh?”

“Here’s your tea!” announces Ecksu - who’s physically coming out of his truck to _directly_ hand the plastic cup to the human to Zero’s quiet disapproval. It’s not like the man doesn’t have arms.

“Thanks,” grunts Mark. Zero can’t quite see Mark’s eyes through his reflective lens but he knows that the man is studying him back. “So Ecksu, who’s this fellow here?”

“I’m glad you asked!” Ecksu starts. “Mark, this is Zero, a Maverick Hunter and a regular here. Zero, this is Mark, an old friend of mine. Now if you excuse me, I’m going to head back before the patty burns.”

An old friend.

With that said, the burger flipper rushes back into his truck while Zero silently gnaws on this new piece of information.

“Maverick Hunter, eh?” Mark raises his cup. “Never seen a build like yours before. You must be an outside inductee. Kudos to you for applying. It’s not an easy job.”

“I can handle it,” Zero answers coolly, not bothering to correct the man though he’s tempted.

“I bet you can,” Mark says easily enough. If he noticed the warbot’s chilly mood, the man isn’t affected. “You look like someone who can dish out hard punches.”

Suddenly uninterested and impatient with the pleasantry, the warbot probes abruptly, “Ecksu says you’re an old friend. Exactly what does that entail? That you’re old and a friend? Or…”

Drawing full height, the Red Ripper glowers dangerously. “Is your relationship with Ecksu older than _mine?”_

Mark spit takes.

The human pounds his chest with one hand, pushing his tea away from himself with the other, almost shoving the cup to Zero as he enters a full-blown choking fit. The Hunter freezes, instantly going through his archival banks. Sure, he’s lukewarm towards the human but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let Mark reach his expiration date in front of Ecksu’s truck.

For one, Ecksu’s business will suffer if it has a reputation of dying customers.

Medical rescue isn’t within the warbot’s directive. Fritz, what did the first responders do when humans’ respiratory systems are spontaneously malfunctioning?

The Hunter slowly sticks out a hand to pat the coughing man’s back but Mark waves it away. Wrong response then.

“N-Napkin, will you?”

Zero immediately snatches ten from the counter and practically flings them at Mark in low-key panic. Note to self: later look into how to save humans more effectively in case a repeat offense occurs.

“Mark, is that you? Are you okay?!” Ecksu cries out over his shoulder in the middle of grilling onions.

“Don’t come out, I’m alright!” the man shouts out hoarsely, patting his polo shirt dry while Zero stands right next to him like a useless statue. “Tea went down the wrong pipe!”

Ecksu stalks up to the window hastily, shooting a suspicious glare at the human. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“I’m just old, leave me alone,” Mark reassures. “Besides your boyfriend can keep an eye on me if I do get a cardiac arrest.”

Now it’s _Ecksu’s_ turn to start strangling on air and Zero’s eyes snap to the civiloid in alarm. Why is everyone around Zero malfunctioning all of a sudden?

“He-he’s not…!” Ecksu stammers, cheeks flushed in a deep red. Wide viridian eyes lock on with Zero’s for a split second. The civiloid makes a strange, weak noise before hurrying back into the kitchen again.

Well. That’s new.

Bewildered, Zero murmurs, “Boyfriend. He doesn’t seem to like that word.”

“On the contrary, going by that reaction he seems partial to it,” Mark mutters from the side. “You might actually have a chance.”

The warbot’s attention snaps back to the man. “What does it mean?”

“What does it –“ Mark cuts himself with a wave of a hand. “Aw cripes, you can look it up. It’s not like you don’t have the function. And give me back my tea, will you?”

Zero glances coldly but hands over the cup, mind withdrawing as he enters online. The Hunter ends up more confused than when he began the search. “A boyfriend is a regular male companion with whom one has a romantic or sexual relationship.”

Zero has seen plenty of couples – humans and reploids alike – inside and outside of Base, but he never really cared to know the details of that particular culture. It was never relevant. However, Zero has seen enough to know that he isn’t a ‘boyfriend.’

The warbot shares this aloud.

Calmly, Mark sips his half-full tea and Zero squints. Why do humans repeat the same action that nearly kills them a minute ago? Bolts, they make no sense.

Finally, the old man says sagely, “But it’s what you want to be, isn’t it?”

The Crimson Hunter stares blankly.

“Oh boy,” Mark sighs. “Zero, right? Okay kid, let me ask you a question – oh, don’t look at me like that, if you’re a newly-activated you are _definitely_ a child. Anyways, were you aware that you were being jealous over my…what didja call it - relationship? With Ecksu?” Groaning, the man rubs his temples with a free hand, muttering under his breath, “Me and Ecks. Lord, this isn’t even funny.”

“Jealous,” Zero repeats slowly.

“Yeah. Jealous. Which I honestly don’t understand how you can be.” Mark gestures at himself self-deprecatingly with a raised, unimpressed brow. “How in the absolute hell did you think I could be an option? I’m _old._ I’m practically a fossil.”

Zero openly scowls, slightly self-conscious at the implication that he’s missing something obvious. “And? Does that not imply that you have decent durability and have accumulated a substantial knowledge well?” Which the combatdroid view as desirable traits, grudgingly.

Mark stares. He raises a finger, closes his mouth, and takes his hand back to stroke his beard slowly. Slowly, he places his tea on one chair arm.

“Exactly what was your directive before you entered the Hunters?”

When Zero doesn’t speak, Mark angles his head with an air of scrutiny. Zero has the uncomfortable feeling that if he could see this human’s eyes, they would be looking at him like a lab specimen.

“…Whenever you were activated, you went straight into the Hunters, did you?” Mark asks quietly in a way that doesn’t expect an answer back. “The way you talk…it’s as if you’ve never socialized with humans. If your social development was all conducted with combat models…”

“What are you on about?” Zero asks guardedly, not liking the man’s clinical tone one bit.

That’s when Ecksu comes back with excellent timing. “Here’s your Mega Cheeseburger - with extra vegetables,” he adds pointedly.

Ecksu’s entrance broke whatever scientific spell possessed the human. Grinning, Mark hands his cup. “Can you give me a refill and bag the burger up for me? I think I’m going to eat by the lake.”

“Can do,” Ecksu says accommodatingly.

Once the burger flipper’s back is turned to package up the meal, the bearded man faces Zero and declares lowly to the saber-wielding combatdroid, “Kid, I trust Ecksu to have solid judgment on people. If he likes you then you can’t be all that bad. Hell, him liking you makes you leagues better than the majority.” Mark coughs out a cynical scoff here. “You want to make him exclusive? Here’s two pieces of advice that I, a friend - and _just_ a friend of Ecksu by the way - can give you.”

Zero’s eyes widen, astonished. Did he just gain an ally?

“It’s obvious you’ve always been hanging with other combat reploids, but I can tell you as a fact that Ecksu has been surrounded by humans.”

“I know that. Ecksu works in customer service,” Zero says witheringly.

“No, I mean Ecksu is more in-tuned with human social development and emotions,” Mark bulldozes on. “While he’s got a great understanding with most reploids since he’s a robot himself obviously, I can’t say how well adept he is with guys like _you._ You have to be obvious.”

“…You’re implying that I should follow the rules of human courting?”

“And you can start it off properly by calling it dating like everyone else,” deadpans Mark. “Second piece of advice: jealousy is normal. We all experience it and you’re no exception. But here’s one thing you need to know. Whatever your plans are with Ecksu, don’t think you can really own him. He’s got a _long_ history of people who tried and it never ended well.”

Intrigue floods through Zero. He wants to ask about Ecksu’s history since it never dawned to him once to learn more about it.

Instead, what leaves his mouth is, “You seem to know reploids very well.”

Mark shrugs. “I work with reploids a lot. Also, I got a son who deals with certain model types. He’s been around long enough to see the culture develop and tell me a few things about it.”

“Here’s your refill and to-go. Is there anything else you need?” asks Ecksu, coming back to pass the complete meal to the elderly man.

“Nope. I’m pretty cozy,” Mark replies. He makes an exaggerated show of looking at both Zero and Ecksu then smirks.

“Doc – Mark,” Ecksu corrects himself hastily. His face is red again. “What’s that look for.”

“Oh nothing.” But now the human is waggling his brows and Zero is reluctantly impressed by how talented the gesture is. “Anyways, I’m leaving. Enjoy your alone time, you two.”

 _“Mark!”_ Ecksu shouts as the man wheels away and glances at one stunned warbot, taken aback that the usual calm and gentle burger flipper raised his volume at all.

Looking back at Zero, Ecksu chuckles, voice a little high-pitch. “Ignore him. He’s being weird. Anyways, I’m getting low on onions so I’m going to have to go restock soon…”

 

* * *

 

“Tombot swarm incoming!” a Hunter shouts.

“Tombots?” Vile drawls somewhere at Zero’s left, dispatching a bouncing Ice de Voux with a generous blast from his cannon. “Are you rusting kidding me. Where are these fritzing ice mechs coming from?”

“Scrap me!” Gravity Beetle grunts, headbutting a Yukidarubon and sending it flying across the sidewalk before it explodes into icy shards. “Ugh! It’s like someone called in every mechaniloid from the Pineress Ski Resort and set them off in the city!”

“Fine with me, it’s free smelting target practice!” the purple war machine crackles, unleashing a rain of fire at the arriving lineup of dragonfly gliders.

Zero stays silent, intent on taking down as many rogue mechs as he can, but something about this has his wires crossed. Elite Unit Troop B were the closest to the scene when the call came about Irregulars transforming the entire theatre district into a winter wonderland. Ice Wings have frozen every opening on every building from the second floor down. Vehicles on the street are stuck in place. So far, there hasn’t been a single reploid who has been severely damaged by the chill; the other Hunters are focusing on escorting any unfortunate and shivering human who happened to be outside into safety. With the added darkness from the night, they struggle to not fall.

The Crimson Hunter uses his thrusters to dodge from a spray of ice chasing at his pedes – and curses when the extra force has him sliding across the slippery asphalt to the other end of the street. Compensating the waste of movement, he improvises, glaring and shooting at the circling Ice Wings on his way down.

That’s when threat assessment starts niggling him again of a foreign entity. Extreme threat within close range. It disappears as soon as it came.

Pausing, Zero digs his heel into the ice – hard enough to skid to a gradual halt, and conducts an immediate survey. No, there are neither new Hunters nor mechaniloids arriving. The number of hostiles are lessening. The rest of the troop can take care of the remaining Irregulars with ease.

Zero slowly backtracks from his slide (warmer, warmer - cold! Warm again) and stops.

The warbot looks to his right to the high-rise residential building and takes a few steps closer. In the thin alley that separates the apartment to the next, there’s frost trailing the sides of the thick garbage bins all the way to the fire escape.

Zero manages to see someone’s shadow vanish into the twenty-sixth floor on the fire escape.

Threat assessment is blaring klaxons but it’s unnecessary. There’s something obviously wrong here.

 _Why is there ice stretching this far from where the other mechs are?_ Zero dash jumps between the building walls, lands on the part of the fire escape railing that’s not frozen, and climbs up quietly. He approaches the fire escape exit and glares down at the dripping puddle of water. It’s gradually turning into ice because of the chilly air.

 _Rapid freezing and melting,_ thinks Zero.

Deadly silent, the Hunter stalks into the exposed hallway. Sharp blue eyes flit to the nearby wall, taking note that the fire alarm has been frozen over. That’s why it didn’t ring at the unauthorized entry.

Tactical urges Zero to sprint down the hallway (because there’s a threat and it’s right _there_ and it’s familiar, so _so_ familiar) but he fights against it. He’s hearing a muffled voice peeking from the cracked open door at the end of the corridor.

“ – I supposed to live then?!” echoes the voice. It’s loud enough that Zero can hear it fine with his default hearing settings.

It’s only when Zero arrives closer that he hears another voice. Filtered.

“…then it’ll be as if this never happened. Hurry, someone’s coming!”

 _It’s them,_ is the last thought that strikes through Zero’s frontal processor before he’s barging through door 2617, buster up and blazing, defensive systems directing it at the target before visual sensors fully processed the scene.

Not that he had a chance to take a survey to begin with – there’s a brief flash of light and heat and suddenly the entire room is entrenched in a burst of warm steam.

Zero responds with a swift wave of his saber, the sheer force pulling the foggy curtains away just as fast as it they arrived.

There are two people in front of Zero (though the warbot senses a third presence somewhere nearby but it’s unimportant for now): one is a knocked out human lying on a puddle (broken nose, bruised eye, but no fatal wounds) and the other is the Critical Threat.

Except it doesn’t look like them. The warbot would have instantly fired away if it weren’t for the conflict between what he expected to see and what he does see.

Instead of the slender, blue winged reploid from the Burbrick Breakout, it’s a bulky armored, red reploid with their right arm outfitted in shape of a cannon aimed right back at the Hunter. Whatever exposed areas of their body are thickly insulated and their chest and helmet are adorned in protruding spikes shapes in a jaw. Alarmingly high heat is radiating from the cannon; fire-based.

Most people would not think that this reploid and the blue reploid to be the same person. The only thing both robots would have in common is that they’re obscuring their identities with a dark visor covering their faces.

But Zero knows better. Threat assessment is desperately roaring for carnage and there’s only one other time that has happened.

“It’s you again,” Zero vocalizes coldly, forcing higher cognitive functions to take control over his warbot instincts (because if he’s going to take down the Target, he’s going to do it as a Hunter and be completely aware of it not like a mindless, berserking mech).

The other reploid full-bodily flinches and steps back. They don’t lower their arm. “Uh, I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is the first time we’ve met,” they say in an utterly unconvincing manner. Their voice is at a deeper octave, but Zero recognize the same voice filter. It must have been tweaked for further deception and that sets Zero’s power distributors surging in rage like nothing else.

“I know it’s you. You can’t fool me,” snarls Zero with another predatory step forward. “You changed your build!”

An extreme one too, all the way to the color and the element function. That must be why the Hunters couldn’t find them for the past couple of weeks - even if there was an active investigation based on Zero’s description, it would be rendered obsolete.

“Who’s supplying you? They provided the one you had before, didn’t they,” accuses Zero, eyes scanning the updated build, collecting as much information as he can.

“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fine. Continue to feign ignorance. I’ll add obstruction to justice to your list of crimes, Maverick.”

“Wha - Maverick?!” the other red reploid cries. “Exactly what did I do to warrant a Maverick treatment? I haven’t done anything wrong!” They pause, then add witheringly. “Okay, except breaking and entering private property - but I have a good reason for that!” they add hastily.

“Look. This man,” the Critical Threat points at the human for emphasis,” was about to be a victim to a revenge plot a few minutes ago. I stopped it before it could escalate into an actual death. Please believe me.”

“And how did you know of it?”

“I didn’t! I came because of the Irregulars down the street but I couldn’t help but wonder why anyone would do that. So I investigated and noticed that this was the only building where there was ice blocking the emergency exits. The mechs the Hunters are fighting aren’t rogues – they’re being _controlled._ It was a distraction for this.”

“I heard into your conversation when I arrived. You were talking to the Maverick who did this.”

“I was only talking them _down_ from doing anything extreme.”

“Instead of taking them down?”

“They’re…misguided. They didn’t warrant anything like that.”

“And where are they now?”

“Gone. They ran away.”

Another lie. Proximity sensors detect the presence in the other room and it’s still not moving. It’s too high up a building and chances are, the other Maverick doesn’t have flight capacity to get down. Further validation to not blindly accept any say from the other reploid.

Ideal situation is to take in both hostiles. Zero recalculates strategies. No one is getting away from the Elite Hunter.

“Let me get this straight. So you came here because you _happened_ to be walking around, fully equipped for combat with an illegal _flame_ cannon and coincidentally encountered who you say is the real perpetrator behind the _ice_ mechs,” Zero ticks off snarky, taking a few careful steps around the human as if to circle around but he’s approaching the door to the other room. The masked reploid is mirroring him to maintain distance.

“When you put it that way, it does sound awfully convenient,” concedes the masked reploid. “You’ll just have to believe me when I say it’s not. I found a situation that I could step in and help. That’s all there is to it.”

“I would take your word if you weren’t hiding your identity.” Ice blue eyes narrow. “Remove the visor and state your designation.”

The fire reploid hesitates. “That’s really not necessary – “

Zero’s buster whirs into life and the Target’s shoulders become a tense line. Despite their obscured face, their body compensates in expressiveness.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” the Crimson Hunter reiterates darkly. “I am _ordering_ you to identify yourself. I want to know who you are.”

“And I don’t want to tell you,” the reploid responds slowly. “I swear I’m not a Maverick.”

“Any reploid that isn’t a Hunter is not authorized to carry any weaponry categorized Class Three or higher in the Council’s Firearm Registry,” Zero ticks off. After Storm Eagle told him to look up the laws, the Elite Hunter did in his spare time.

The Target groans quietly under their breath. “Oh smelt me – “

“Any civilian, reploid or human, must have a permit for carrying firearms and obey law enforcement for identification and background check,” Zero presses further. “And any reploid who desires to have a build change must undergo the procedures in a legal manner, and have the operations take place in any of the government approved labs or workshops. _And_ update their ID.”

“Okay that’s -”

“You want to prove to me you have good intentions? Then why are you getting illegal custom jobs instead of joining the Hunters? You’re saying that you’re doing this to help but what I see is a lying, arrogant bot who thinks they’re above the law. Worse, with the amount of power you have, you have the capacity to get away with it.

“Final warning. Come quietly,” says the Elite Hunter with no room for argument, “I would have shot you by now but I’m giving you a choice.”

“Some choice,” says the masked reploid, managing to sound dry with a voice filter.

“Don’t push it. I’m choosing to be gentle,” declares Zero recalling Ecksu and how if the kinder reploid was here, maybe he’d be proud of the warbot. “Make one wrong move and I won’t be.”

The Critical Threat stands there for a weighted moment and sighs. “Thank you…but I’m sorry. I have my reasons to fight like this.”

As soon as the other robot finishes their sentence, Zero makes harsh motion towards the side and the masked reploid startles into action, leaping to the back. But it’s a feint and the warbot is already returning to position, doing a roundhouse kick straight into the master bedroom door that’s sheltering the other hostile with a vengeance.

“No, wait!” the masked reploid shouts, validating Zero’s theory. The Critical Threat, for whatever reason, is invested in the second hostile. If the Hunter captures this one, the Threat will have to follow no matter what.

The warbot hears panicked shouts behind him and in front of him - and barely steps back in time for a wall of thick ice sprouting like a barrier straight up into the ceiling.

“Ugh, this is, like, such a fucking oil spill!” shouts an angry and nervous, feminine voice from the other side. The sheen of the ice is blurring the dark silhouette of the reploid. “Why is every stranger getting up in my business?!”

Zero bisects through the wall neatly with his saber. He has a glimpse of a dark, curvaceous reploid build standing on top of a king-sized bed before he has to dodge roll out of a way for a stream of flame above him. The room is filled with the resulting steam of fire meeting ice once more.

Private property collateral has racked up so high it probably doesn’t matter how much Zero adds to it: it’s close quarter combat, the room is drenched with overwhelming humidity likened to an intense sauna. He engages with two separate element-based reploids within the four sweating walls. The room is suffocating with steam and fighting inside feels like trading blows inside a thick cloud. Zero is relying on his environmental sensors more than his eyes to physically map out obstacles.

In a space that’s 2500 square feet, it’s chaos.

“I’m taking you both down.”

“It’s one shitty milksucker, who cares if he – ow, shit, hot hot HOT!”

“Sorry about that! And please - she’s a newly-activated! She’s so young!”

“Wait, I recognize you. You were at that human club, the one where – “

“Stop melting my ice! It’s so fucking hot and there’s so much water in the air that if I use any ice, we’re all going to get stuck!”

“Then don’t do anything, I’ll take care of – ACH! Fritz, why are you so _determined_ to stab me? Can’t you let me go?!”

“Not as long as you’re functioning.”

“Oh my god, I’m, like, going to overheat!”

Then there’s the familiar sound of a charging buster and Zero boggles. Is this Maverick seriously going to release a charged shot indoors?! The impact is going to eat the entire condo!

A yellow green flash fills the room, but instead of feeling scorched pain like he expected, Zero hears what sounds like a wall tumbling apart. Chilly air rushes in from the open hole to the outside, cleaning out the steam and the next thing the warbot knows, the Critical Threat is dashing close to the flower reploid, seizing her around the waist.

“Hey! Just because you’re trying to help me doesn’t mean you get to touch – “

“I still have no reason to fight you,” the masked reploid says directly to Zero before they, and the Maverick they’re holding, jump out of the twenty-sixth floor without any hesitation. The ice Maverick’s high-pitch screaming follows them down off the building.

Cursing, Zero accelerates to the edge.

He’s there in time to see the Critical Threat who – there’s no other way to describe it – rusting _transform_ mid-falling. The masked reploid’s bulky, red construct disappears for a winged, slender green one and fly dashes away at a startling speed, leaping against building wall to wall away from the Hunter.

The Elite Hunter makes no move for a chase. He stares, processor going into overdrive at what he just witnessed.

 _The Critical Threat can change build._ _They can change at_ will.

Armor, color, and function. All at once at the same time within seconds. Transformation? How are they doing it? Rust, Zero didn’t even know that reploids could be equipped with multiple builds because that has to be it. The Critical Threat is pre-programmed with different constructs. Anything else would be…

Would be what?

The Crimson Hunter raises a hand to his head. It aches. This paradoxical feeling of everything being wrong and right makes no sense and he’s not equipped for this cognitive disaster.

More irrationally, another part of Zero, somewhere deep in his circuits didn’t expect this encounter to turn out this way. He was ready to fight the Critical Threat to the death and fleeing wasn’t an option.

Except there it is. It just happened. To Zero, it’s as if the sun ate the moon.

_I need to return to the Unit. I need to report this to Base._

It’s not until the other Hunters finally clamber to the bitten out condo, exclaiming along the lines of, “What in the bolts happened here?!” that the warbot finally budges from his spot.

 

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes in riding the Hunter transit, Zero stands from his seat and walks to the back of the van. The other Hunters watch him all but kicks the back doors open at a red light.

“Sir, what are you doing?“

Zero spares a tepid glance at the Lifesaver trying to stop him. “I’m going to walk,” the combatdroid announces.

“Where?”

“Century Park.”

The Lifesaver scans him up and down to Zero’s distaste. Ever since the operations he had in his first week with the Hunters, the warbot views everything medical-related with justified wariness.

“Sir, I highly recommend you have Medbay take a look at you before you exercise anymore activity,” the Lifesaver says.

“I’m not injured.”

And even if Zero was, as long as auto-repair can handle it he won’t go to Medbay for it.

Before he can hear another protest, the combatdroid steps out in the middle of traffic, swinging the doors shut behind him. He’s an A-Rank Hunter and no one save for higher authority can stop him.

The warbot seamlessly enters the pedestrian flow on the sidewalk, threat assessment nonchalantly counting the numerous targets around him.

Too many people. Zero makes a sharp ninety-degree turn. Someone nearly walks into him, makes an irritated noise, but he ignores them. It’s higher priority to stay away from crowd, not for the warbot’s sake but for theirs. Zero is coiled tight, power distributors sparking, and he just needs to defrag and do it without being surrounded by a bunch of combat-based models clumped in a single location.

He wants to clear his head. He wants to fight. He wants –

“Zero, what are you doing here?” cries Ecksu from behind The Blue Burger’s counter, expression horrified.

“To see you,” says Zero simply. His frontal processing power is operating so minimally with information overload that he doesn’t question Ecksu’s agitation right away. Just laying his eyes on the smaller robot and his wide viridian eyes and shocked concern, an entity completely separate from everything related to Zero’s directive.

But he’s in Zero’s life anyways. The warbot already feels better.

“But look at you! You’re…” The civiloid makes a vague gesture over Zero.

For the first time all day, the Crimson Hunter looks down at himself. He immediately sees the problem.

The backs of his arms are seared black as if he gone into a fist-fight with an inferno. Because the “injury” isn’t severe and self-diagnostic doesn’t care for aesthetic, it barely counts as one. To anyone else however, the Hunter appears roughed up.

“I’m not hurt. This is all on the surface level,” Zero reassures.

Ecksu makes a face that says,” Is it really,” before huffing out a soft noise. “Stay right here. I’ve got some wax and polish. It’s not good to let that sit on you. Your nanites won’t do their job otherwise.”

The burger flipper disappears from the window and comes back with a plain toolbox. Fishing through the kit, he pulls up a microfiber cloth, several plastic bottles and wax, laying the materials neatly on the narrow table. He also nudges an E-Tank towards Zero’s direction in an unspoken demand for the warbot to drink.

“I’ll bring you some hot water and soap to start with in a couple of minutes. Take a look which polish works best with your armor,” provides Ecksu as Zero gulps down the fuel – the warbot needed this more than he initially thought (he’s been pointedly ignoring his programming orders).

Setting the half-emptied E-Tank aside, Zero examines the bottles, glancing back at Ecksu with a raised brow. “You carry them around in your truck?” And this vulnerable robot doesn’t even wear his external plating.

“Well, just in case. Like when Hunters fresh off the battle decide to come to a food truck instead of medical,” says Ecksu flatly.

The Hunter’s eyes glint. “Do Hunters come to you for services outside of ordering your burgers?”

_They better not._

“What? Oh no.” Ecksu barks out a punched-out laugh, an exasperated yet fond sound. “So far, you’re the only one, you ridiculous bot. Anyways, mind the heat. It’s fresh from the stovetop.”

Ecksu comes out from the side of the truck with a bucket of hot, bubbly water and a small sponge. Cautiously, he lays them in front of Zero, not daring to spill a drop.

But after dealing with both an ice and fire-based Maverick within the same room, Zero has proven he’s more than capable of fighting under extreme duress and temperatures. Unceremoniously, he dips his scorched arm in the water without a flinch and proceeds to scrub the blackened external layer off.

‘So far.’

Those are the key words. They’re heavy with the implication that Ecksu may extend his individual attention for someone else sometime in the vague future.

Zero is struck with the memory of the burger flipper interacting with Flame Hyenard and Mark. How both moments proved that Ecksu goes out of his way to start and develop relationships. Fritz, he approached Zero out of nowhere, didn’t he?

Ecksu must do these things all the time.

Which means Zero’s friendship with Ecksu isn’t particularly unique.

Ecksu winces. “You’re going to damage your plating like that.”

Zero slows down the pace but doesn’t let up the strength. He’s with Ecksu and the evidence of fighting and failing to capture the Critical Threat needs to be gone. Smelt it, he didn’t even bring in the other Maverick either. Later Zero is going to have to tell Command about that black flower reploid and track her down. Trace her backgrounds; see if they find any connection between her and to the underworld. Why is someone with her abilities working in a human club in the first place? It’s too suspicious. And maybe that can be Zero’s lead to hunt down a trail back to the Critical Thre -

“That’s not much of an improvement, ” Ecksu cuts in wryly. “Here, let me.”

The shorter reploid lays a hand over the sponge, fingers touching Zero’s and the warbot stops. Zero releases the sponge, granting silent permission.

“Bolts Zero, this is deeper than the surface level,” Ecksu chastises quietly after a minute of tending to Zero’s arms. “This went under the shelling and into the wiring. These three over here needs to get soldered.”

Without waiting for Zero to say anything, Ecksu is shuffling into his kit’s contents again, pulling out a soldering iron and plugging it into a portable battery. “At least they’re not wrapped around your neurosystem or your power distributors. They’re articulated supported to your fingers, but again, it’s not good to leave all that work to your nanites. It should take a few minutes to patch them up.”

Bemused, Zero says,” Did you really learn all of this from documentaries?”

Ecksu freezes mid-motion. “Ah. Um. I have some experience doing minor repair. Hunters do come by The Blue Burger a lot so I.” Fidgeting in place, he says, “Sorry, I was being too forward. If you’re not comfortable, I can back off.”

“It’s fine, you can continue,” says Zero, mulling over the other robot’s words and feeling that familiar and undesirable tendril of bitterness tucked in his compact tank.

Mark says this is jealousy. Negative emotions regarding to a lack of possession.

Despite how disgustingly petty it is, Zero finds the term accurate. Being friends with Ecksu doesn’t make Zero’s position and relevancy to the burger flipper anymore important than the next friend.

The human was right. If Zero wants to be special to Ecksu, he has to be more than a friend.

“Lighting is a bit bad,” mumbles Ecksu as he shuffles his stool closer without looking up. He ducks his head lower, tongue sticking out in concentration. He’s so focused, concentrating on giving Zero this tender attention that he doesn’t register Zero readjusting his position above him to be _slightly_ closer too.

“It’s not too hot is it?” asks Ecksu as he reconnects the wires one by one.

“No,” whispers Zero. It’s warm.

“Good. I’m almost done…alright, that’s the last of it!” Grinning triumphantly, Ecksu puts the iron away back in its place.

Then the shorter robot tilts head up - and draws in an exvent when he sees that his face is only bare centimeters apart from Zero’s. The Hunter notes that Ecksu is neither moving closer nor moving away. The world is at a strange, tense hush, and Zero angles his head. Ecksu’s green eyes are as innately artificial as the next robot, but they’re Ecksu’s and that alone makes Zero want to study every ring, line, and subtle glow.

He leans forward, watching Ecksu’s reaction. The civiloid still isn’t moving away. In fact, his gaze darts down below Zero’s eyes and back up again, cheeks gradually gaining color.

It’s almost too chaste to be called a kiss. It’s practically just a brush of the lips.

It’s a small action and though Zero is aware of the socio-cultural significance, he personally does not find it interesting. It’s literally a pair of synthetic skins with tactile sensors pressing together.

Zero pulls away, disappointed at how underwhelming it is, and stops short.

Ecksu’s face is flushed crimson, mouth opening and closing wordlessly as if his articulators have malfunctioned.

“Was that...? Ecksu trails off, blushing even harder and Zero can’t stop staring. This reaction is so interesting and novel and vulnerable – this never-before-seen side of the other robot is mesmerizing.

Correction: not underwhelming at all. This is a very satisfying development.

Zero twitches forward, this newfound desire to see _more_ so compelling that his hand rises impulsively towards the back of Ecksu’s neck. He manages to halt it before he can touch Ecksu. Zero is a combatdroid – fighting is his directive, intimidating foes and allies alike is the norm, but Ecksu is a civilian. He has to be careful.

He wants to keep this and keep him so much.

“Is this okay?” the red robot asks hesitantly.

Ecksu shoots forward with speed that takes Zero off-guard but the surprise wears away when the other android snakes his arms through the curtain of blond, synthetic wires for hair and around the back of the his neck. Zero’s proximity sensors are overloaded with Ecksu’s presence, with his needy touch, his tiny, weak sounds between gasps for ventilation, the excited glow in his eyes before they flutter close. This small, clinging body trying to fit in the grooves and corners of Zero’s own is more than confirmation that the desire is mutual and Zero is soaring.

He didn’t fulfill his directive in battle today, but he’s victorious all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Capcom won’t give me Dr. Cain’s first name, I gave him one for the sake of plot. I chose Mark since it's a pun referring to the literal Mark/Curse of Cain in the Bible.  
> Also - Zero...that reploid who was hanging around the food truck...she wasn't there for Ecksu lmao


	5. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bonus chapter to the story :)

X raises his arms over his face right when the flames reaches the oil canisters. The resulting blast throws him midway across the warehouse and he gasps in pain when he crashes into the stack of wooden crates. He winces when he tries to get up, privately glad that he’s equipped with his fire-based armor at the moment. Without the added insulation, the blast would have scorched the faux skin off of his face. The intense heat and the blow are already screwing the wires out of his sensors.

“You!”

X swivels around, squinting. The smoke is thick and X can barely make out a humanoid shape through the grey veil.

Then the smoke parts like a swayed curtain for a second and X’s face lights up. A heat that’s not from the surrounding blaze pools in his chest.

“Zero!” X chirps under his own exvent. Then he remembers himself and goes, “Oh no. _Zero,”_ more quietly. 

_This is not what it looks like_ , dies in X’s throat once he sees his very new, very sweet, and oh-so very horribly misguided boyfriend reaching for his saber. Zero is glaring at X as if the currently masked android is part of the reploid gang that broke into the warehouse. The blanket of fondness gets quickly replaced by dread.

Knowing that no matter what he says won’t matter at the face of a juggernaut, X tries weakly, “Consider letting me go?”

“When my hands are sliced off,” snarls Zero.

 

* * *

 

“What if you slice off your hands like that?”

X’s lips quirk at the corner at Zero’s intensely serious expression. Zero is not as amused.

“You’re wielding a sharp knife while only wearing vinyl gloves. If you miscalculate, you can chop off your fingers especially at the joints.”

“I’ve been doing this for quite some time. I can even do it with my eyes closed,” says X as he confidently slices onion after onion, scraping the rings cleanly off the cutting board and into one of the clear storage containers sitting in a row before him.

Since X actually has proximity sensors, he can.

“Ecksu, don’t.”

 X lightheartedly rolls his eyes and lays down the knife. He takes off one glove and reaches over the window with one hand. “Touch me. My hands may appear delicate without the extra plating but I’m a lot more durable than I appear. Even if I make a mistake, I won’t get anything more than a nick.”

Zero gingerly takes X’s hand with his own and rubs over the back with his thumb. It’s too gentle to be examining.

“What is your conclusion?” X asks playfully through his thrumming core.

Zero’s eyes flit up to X’s before lowering his head to the back of X’s hand. The softly grazing lips are the only warning X gets before he feels a testing nip of artificial canines.

“You’re fine,” says Zero almost grudgingly. “I’d still prefer if you weren’t so vulnerable all the time.” Then the Hunter’s larger hand wraps around X’s like a silent declaration of protection. Twin orbs of clear blue meet viridian. It’s a gaze of someone who can’t see anything else, who won’t see anything else and it makes X feel like a goal. Always pursued, and the pursuer wanting nothing less than him.

 _This is how I’m going to die_ , thinks X, bathing in an aura of warm contentment so sweet its cloying.

 

* * *

 

 _Scrap me, this is how I’m going to die,_ groans X in what feels like slow motion as he’s falling off the side of the bee blader from 1,219 meters in the air.

And it’s neither the velocity nor the impact that’ll kill him – the former isn’t a big deal and the latter won’t happen. X is readying up the buster to make a shot below him so he can have that opposite boost to slow his landing.

“You’re not flying from me again!”

No, it’ll be Zero who slagging hopped off the bee blader and is literally following him down in their skydives.

X looks over his shoulder and yells, “You seriously can’t let me go this time!? Fritz, you don’t even _have_ flight capacity!”

Zero’s answer is raising his respective buster.

“Who the rust designed you,” X deadpans, his voice lost into the roaring air around him.

 

* * *

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, who designed you?” asks X innocently. He rubs Zero’s right arm, the one that’s wrapped around the smaller robot’s waist. The evening shift is done and Zero has tugged X behind the truck and they’re sitting against a tree trunk. Or, Zero is and X is against Zero, hugged from behind with a sharp nose into his neck. “I’ve had plenty of reploid customers but your design is nothing I’ve seen before.”

“The Commander says I’m probably a custom job,” Zero speaks into X’s shoulder.

X blinks at the wording. “That’s what the Commander says, but what about you?”

“I don’t know much about myself either. I don’t have any memories before I entered the Maverick Hunters. The Lifesavers said that’s because I was likely activated the first time when Sigma found me among a few other reasons…”

Clearly Zero isn’t comfortable broaching this topic. X ends his questioning and snuggles into Zero’s embrace. “We should do this more. Just being together like this.”

Zero hums in agreement.

“I don’t want to keep you away from your work but…aren’t you allowed any free days? It seems you always have to rush off recently…”

Zero pulls his head away, tilting his head slightly in the way that X finds endearing. When Zero first came by The Blue Burger, Zero barely emoted. Clearly he had the capacity to convey emotions, but didn’t heavily used the feature. X heard from Dr. Cain that Zero is apparently a young robot, which retrospectively explains plenty.

“We are allowed to have free days…” says Zero slowly. “However, right now isn’t a good time.”

“If I may ask, why is that?”

“I can’t share. It’s confidential.”

“I see,” says X with a visible note of disappointment. He spots a twinge of distress passing by Zero’s face and tells himself not to feel too guilty.

“There’s a Maverick that has been running around loose in Abel City,” says Zero with a shrug that seems too deliberate to be read casual this time. “It’s nothing to worry about. It’s just occupying my attention right now.”

“What makes this one special? If it was any other Maverick, it wouldn’t be a huge matter since there’s always Mavericks. That’s why the Maverick Hunters were formed in the first place. There’s something about this specific Maverick that has you coming back to me so ragged,” X adds, tone light.

Zero struggles. “They’re…stronger than the average Maverick. They’re outfitted with weaponry, armor, and abilities that no normal reploid should have access to.”

 _That’s accurate,_ X thinks with a mental grimace.

“I see. Well, no matter how dangerous the…Maverick is, please take care of yourself. It’s not healthy to tunnel vision. It’s good to take breaks.”

“I’ll be fine. Compare to most reploids, I can run efficiently at long lengths with minimal recharge and fuel,” says Zero.

Considering what happened last night, X takes that as fact. When the blue android snuck into Senator Roscoe’s office, Zero not only sensed X’s presence from the Maverick Hunters’ Crowswood patrol route two block aways, but also chased X for the next three hours into the night. And when X finally lost him, the Hunter showed up at The Blue Burger today without a crossed wire.

“Are you worried? You seem worried.”

X looks up to see a pair of sharp blue eyes honing onto his own intensely. Oh rust, X needs to get better at controlling his emotional outputs, which is honestly a shame. To feel and show emotions is a gift Dr. Light bestowed him, but X can’t risk giving himself away to his number one pursuer.

Before X can answer, Zero continues, “You don’t need to. No matter how strong the enemy is, I’ll take them down.” His eyes glow, set in determination. “I’ll make the entire city safe for you.”

Oh Zero.

It’s funny that while X is the oldest android by virtue of being the first android ever created, it’s only now he’s experiencing a greater range of emotions thanks to this one robot before him.  He takes note of his thrumming core, of that irrational, liquid warmth in his tanks, and marvels that he has the capacity to feel this. 

“I don’t think anyone would ever attack a food truck owner,” X chuckles softly. “But I appreciate the gesture. If anything, I’m worried about you. You’re the one who’s fighting at the front lines.”

X still feels bad for accidentally burning Zero that one time.

“Between the two of us, who’s the one wearing _clothes?”_ Zero deadpans.

“You’re never going to stop fussing me over that, aren’t you?” laughs X as the conversation goes back to familiar grounds again.

 

* * *

 

_He’s never going to stop chasing me, isn’t he._

X practically tosses the helmet on his desk. He collapses into his chair and leans his head backwards.

_Eight times in the past month. Eight. Times._

X absolutely adores Zero to bits, but _fritz_ that bot is _persistent._

Ever since X committed interference with Hellebore (who X hopefully keeps a low profile after her attempted murder, ugh), Zero has upped his game. At first X didn’t worry too much because by nature X is a worrier. He tends to worry to the point of detriment as commented by Dr. Cain, but that has served him well for the past year. Every operation X hides his tracks. He keeps switching up his armor designs and colors. He utilizes his Variable Tool System to the absolute fullest.

And yet, Zero managed to nearly catch him _eight smelting times in the past month._

X doesn’t what in the bolts how or why, but somehow Zero literally has an awfully specific tracking feature and X is the sole, unfortunate target. Worst, Zero is getting _better._ With every interaction, Zero seems to learn more of X’s tricks and brushes closer – and not in the way X would prefer.  

 _It’s the armor_ , X thinks blearily, peeling off his chest guard.

Because no matter how much X radically changes his appearance, Zero knows it’s him at every encounter.

Ugh, if only X knew who Zero’s creator was and ask them what kind of radar they’ve installed Zero with so X can at least _try_ to modify that out of his own armor. Not even Sigma, who’s another custom build, doesn’t have whatever awfully specific sensor Zero has. Unless Zero can hone into anything that’s made out of Titanium X…hah, now that’s just paranoia speaking. 

Speaking of Sigma…

X raises a hand to his temple and waits.

 _“X?”_ answers the Commander of the Maverick Hunters.

“Hello Sigma, are you busy at the moment?”

“I’m always busy, X.”

“Fair enough,” sighs X. “I need to ask you something about one of your Hunters.”

“What do you want to know about Zero?”

“…He’s been talking to you about me, hasn’t he.”

“Two weeks ago I was in a meeting with Councilor Zebedee when Zero barged in yelling that there’s a transforming reploid with black market weaponry gallivanting around Abel City,” replies Sigma neutrally though X can hear the unimpressed undertone in the other robot’s voice. “Since then he has been pushing forward an operation to hunt down this so-called ‘vigilante.’”

“Smelt me,” groans X, burying his face into his hands.

“We established that anything Maverick-related is under my jurisdiction. You are aware that there was no need for you to step in during the Burbrick Breakout, correct?”

“Sigma, I know, but at the time I was so worried,” X says in an apologetic tone though he doesn’t regret helping one bit. “It was too close for comfort. I couldn’t stand by.”

“Dr. Cain once said that your worrying is your greatest feature…” Sigma trails off sounding doubtful. Whether it’s of what Dr. Cain said or something else, X isn’t sure.

“I am a worrier,” X agrees. “That’s why I have a favor to ask of you.”

“A favor?”

“You mentioned that he’s been trying to hunt me. How much does he know about me? Not ‘Ecksu,’ but me.”

“…He’s acquainted with your other persona as well?”

Scrap.

“…We’re more than acquaintances at this point.”

The silence coming from Sigma’s end is full of judgment.

X starts. “We’re together.”

The silence continues.

“Well, he and Ecksu are together. Not physically together – well, not now at least, but I mean as in relationship-together.” Bolts, there’s something embarrassing saying that out loud, X can feel his cheeks heating up uselessly. “So far he doesn’t see a connection between his Maverick fugitive and Ecksu for some reason. I think it’s something specific to my armor that he’s sensing or…are you still there, Sigma?”

“I ran a sanity check and it apparently came back clean. I’m currently running a diagnostics check on my hearing to see if that’s running smoothly.”

X gets it. “Sigma, nothing’s wrong with your systems. I’m really dating Zero.”

“You can’t be.”

X blinks, flabbergasted at the viciously firm reply. “Excuse me?”

Sigma doesn’t answer. Sensing the other robot’s hesitation, X waits, knowing better than to force a response. Despite how long these two have known each other, Sigma never seemed to be wholly comfortable with X. Though unfortunate, the blue android understands. The Commander of the Maverick Hunters doesn’t accept ambiguity well and prefers to compartmentalize everything including his connections to others; Sigma doesn’t know where to mentally categorize X and therefore how to consistently treat him.

Maybe once X is no longer in this gray, Venn diagram of a space of progenitor, civilian, illegal undercover investigator, legally ‘deceased’ individual – then it’ll be easier for Sigma to relax around him.

(There’s also a chance that it’ll change nothing because even before then, what mattered was what X was instead of who he was right up to the point he disappeared. Even with Dr. Cain’s son, who’s practically X’s nephew if human familial relations apply, is no different.)

Finally: “X, you’re intelligent. At least, I evaluated you to be intelligent. So you can’t be dating the same bot that wants to hunt you with extreme prejudice because that’s processor-boggling levels of recklessness that’s not like you. So either you’re broken or I’m wrong.” A considering pause. “Is it possible that _you_ suffered processor damage, X?”

“I know it’s complicated, but trust me when I say I have it under control for now.”

“Are you certain? If you did, you wouldn’t be frolicking with – “ Sigma makes a frustrated sound. “How did this happen? How did you let this happen? Unless…is this that one saying? ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?’”

“No Sigma, Zero is not my enemy,” says X with much gathered patience. “No one in the Hunters is my enemy. I…I really like Zero. Also, I’m almost done with all this so it won’t be an issue for much longer. I just need you to help me until I get to the end. It’s a small thing. Er, I hope it’ll be a small thing on your part.”

“…Explain.”


	6. Chapter 6

“You’re not on probation anymore and I expect nothing less than perfect protocol from an A-Rank Hunter,” Sigma begins as soon as Zero takes a seat from across the desk. “But these days you’re overstepping your boundaries to the point of insubordination.”

Zero’s eyes narrow by the slightest. Sigma notices, and Zero notices that Sigma notices. Zero doesn’t care. Let the Commander know that the Crimson Hunter isn’t satisfied with the state of the Hunters as of late.

“Being an A-Rank Hunter does not make you a Unit Leader,” continues Sigma unperturbed. “Your duties are carved out and specified. You’re in no position to be making demands from neither the Navigation nor the Mission Management departments.”

“I was encouraged by a Unit Leader to raise the concern to the Navigators in the first place,” retorts Zero. “This isn’t a petty issue. There’s a reploid that is equipped with highly illegal and advanced weaponry doing whatever they want all over the city. I’ve brought this to your attention multiple times and you haven’t taken it seriously.”

“So you thought barging into a meeting that doesn’t involve you is the right way to receive my attention?” says Sigma with a disapproving pull of the lips.

So Sigma _was_ rubbed acid about that. Sure, the front desk secretary was practically skidding across the floor trying to drag Zero back, crying out that Sigma would be “furious,” but Zero has priorities.

“Do I need to care for timing or decorum if Abel City is getting bombed?” asks Zero coldly.

“Do not make the comparison of a high-scale emergency with your ill-assessed judgment,” Sigma replies equally cold. “That is not your call to make.” 

“This Maverick shouldn’t be underestimated,” Zero insists through gritted teeth. “They can transform between builds, which is why looking through the NRDB is inefficient. Also, they exhibit a keen understanding of the Hunters’ movements. The Navigators have access to the public server cameras and scout-and-track mechaniloids. Yet somehow, this reploid manages to consistently stay out of record and capture. That’s a sign that they’re aware of the Hunters’ equipment and resources and is strategizing ways to avoid them. There’s more going on with this Maverick than shallow vigilantism or else they wouldn’t be avoiding law enforcement that desperately.”

Sigma stares at Zero for a moment longer as if taking in the information fully. Good, perhaps finally the Commander of the Hunters understand what they’re dealing with.

“You’re obsessed, Zero,” states Sigma flatly.

This time Zero glares openly.

“I’ll look into the matter later,” the Commander adds dismissively, turning to the side to type in what’s likely an inane note in his data pad. “So return to your assigned duties and stop pestering the Navigators on your lone bot crusade.”

“Later?” Zero repeats dangerously. “This bot is dangerous – we should be allocating resources and Hunters to bringing them in _now.”_

“Who leads the Hunters?” asks Sigma imperiously with an intrigued line across his brow as if Zero is some interesting creature. “Remember our directive: we’re the sword and shield to those who can’t protect themselves. Addressing immediate issues that threatens civilian life is our foremost priority.”

“I do remember. I’m only furthering the Hunters’ directive to include prevention. Shouldn’t the Hunters keep an eye on potential threats before they escalate?” shoots back Zero.

“I didn’t summon you here for a debate. My word is final. I want a properly functioning Hunter, not a self-destructive one operating on his personal agenda. If this is how you’re going to be then you’re no different than this vigilante that you’re trying to hunt down.”

Zero ducks his head, not feeling chastised as much as physically trying to tamp down the burst of loathing that came from the comparison.

“…You’ve changed, Zero.”

The Hunter raises his gaze at that.

“I should praise you for developing so much since you’ve arrived. You’ve never seemed that taken in by our message. However, I’m suspecting you’re developing tunnel vision.” Sigma swipes through his data pad and Zero instantly receives a notification ping.

Zero looks at the message and gawks just as Sigma says,” I’m removing you from active duty. You need to take a step back…how about I put you on guard shift to the very peaceful Calimaru Coast where the aquatic base that Launch Octopus is stationed in.”

The Red Ripper tenses. “Am I being punished?”

“You’re being rewarded,” says Sigma languidly, still on his data pad, “for your hard work with a much deserved break. Compare to the other Hunters, you have taken none of your paid days.”

“Because I don’t need them. I am perfectly sufficient to conduct extended work without rest.” Fritz, he can go on infinitely probably. He hasn’t attempted, but Zero thinks he can if he really has to.

“Sounds unhealthy,” Sigma comments. “I’d rather not see the bots under me break down from ill self-maintenance. Perhaps I should take you off from duty altogether.”

“What!?” The combatdroid rises from his seat, thoroughly offended like Sigma flat out called him a bent, rusted nail. “Do _not_ take me off duty!”

“Hmm, you seem stressed. Must be from all the hunting. Let’s see if we can improve the experience for you,” says Sigma as he’s worsening the experience for Zero. “Would you look at that. South of Launch Octopus’ base there’s a five-star hotel resort – “

Zero bristles. “You can’t seriously – “

“Amazing view and not too far from Thau’muqui, a town that ranked third in Adventure Advisor’s top beachside party cities in the country last year – “

“I’m part of _your_ Unit – !“

“And you should be rewarded for devoting so much time and energy to the Seventeenth,” finishes Sigma smoothly. “I’ll submit the request for your travel preparations to be set.”

As soon as Sigma finishes talking, Zero receives a message. He boggles at the content. 

“Seems my secretaries have already finished. Glad to see there are people within the Hunters who are doing their job as told,” Sigma remarks pointedly, scrolling through the CC’d email with approval while Zero is about to short circuit. “You’re booked at the most luxurious suite at Hotel Maridewa.” A smirk. “That should help you unwind.”

Zero stares, flabbergasted, unbelieving that Sigma just did that. It would be no different if the Commander of the Hunters blatantly punched him across the processor.

The Crimson Hunter miscalculated. He initially thought that if he nagged the issue to the Commander enough, Sigma would understand the weight of the situation and commence operations. This backfired in the worst way possible. In fact, this all looks like some unprofessionally petty revenge disguised as good intentions.

Does Sigma have a low-key grudge against Zero? Did Sigma put Zero in his Unit to rub acid on him directly like this? Is this because he was a former Maverick? Is this what workplace criminal discrimination looks like?

The A-Rank Hunter bites back a growl because, fritz, he’s a professional and the damage is done. He lost this battle. Anymore struggle and this could get worse. “How long?” he asks stiffly.

_How long until I return to hunting? How long will I not see Ecksu?_

“One week.”

“One whole week?!”

 _“Two_ weeks,” says Sigma mercilessly.

Zero shuts up.

“Don’t look so distraught,” says Sigma pleasantly. “Apparently the hotel has top-of-the-line chefs that can deliver the finest dining. I’ve heard you’ve been frequenting Century Park lately. You must be a fan of food.”

“I’m not there for the fuel. I have a partner and you’re telling me that I won’t be able to see him in the duration of my relocation. This is _not_ a vacation, Commander.”

Sigma falls quiet and Zero feels a spark of hope.

Then the Commander smiles unapologetically, an expression the Red Ripper now associates with pure ruthlessness and certain doom. “I’m sure your partner would be happy to know you’re taking care of your mental health.”

Ten minutes later, the warbot goes down to the simulators with a ferocity that has the other Hunters questioning his mental health.

 

* * *

 

When Zero sees Ecksu pulling the shutters down over his truck’s counter window at the end of another workday, the burger flipper doesn’t fully turn around when the Hunter strides straight and drops his head on the other’s shoulder in lieu for a greeting.

Ecksu reflexively grasps the taller robot’s shoulders in a comforting gesture. “Zero? What’s wrong?”

Zero lifts his head long enough to explain and clonks back down before his anger can rise high enough and he does something recklessly violent. Again.

“Two weeks at Calimaru? Why do you look so exhausted?” Zero can feel Ecksu smiling gently by his head. “That’s something worth celebrating, Zero.”

“It’s not,” Zero replies in Ecksu’s neck. “The Commander says this is a vacation but I’ve never had a vacation. I never needed one and I _don’t_ need one. I’m a Hunter. I’m supposed to hunt.” _To fight._ “If this is Sigma’s way of getting back to me for irritating him, he’s successful.”

Like a silent permission, Ecksu slowly lays one hand over Zero’s ponytail, stops when the Hunter stiffens, and – when there’s no objection – starts petting in a soothing motion down and back up. Zero relaxes. Having his sensory wires hone onto a single entity like this is grounding.

“If you keep seeing it as a punishment, you won’t be able to enjoy it like the opportunity it is,” says Ecksu. "I’ve got a different perspective and I’m genuinely excited for you. Remember about us having choices? This time you’re going to have so much time to try all the new things you’ve never done before. First time for everything, right?”

“Like food and music,” Zero says distantly.  

“That’s right. Heh, since Calimaru is a popular tourist destination, you’ll definitely have your sample of both.” Ecksu brightens. “In fact, you’ll meet all kinds of different people. That’s going to be interesting.”

The concept of encountering irrelevant strangers has no appeal to Zero, but the idea introduces a new threat. Zero has been conducting his routine faithfully, which consisted of carrying out his work as a Hunter and spending (and guarding) Ecksu when the food truck owner is in the area. By now, anyone who frequents Century Road is familiar with the A-Rank Hunter’s constant presence.

And that’s all going straight into the acid pits once Zero leaves. It’s a low probability that any harm will come to Ecksu; he is a humble food service reploid and Century Road has high security via the number of Hunters that come here. Even the Critical Threat who has no pattern (that Zero has discovered yet) among the locations they show up in, they steer clear of a modest radius from Headquarters.

But what if someone seizes his suspension as an opportunity to make an advance towards Ecksu?

What if someone tries to snatch Ecksu away from him?

“Zero?”

Zero’s hand twitches, interrupted in its track of grasping Ecksu’s waist at the burger flipper’s voice. Acting as if he wasn’t going to give into the violent impulse of forcibly tugging the other robot to himself, Zero continues the momentum, his hand changing directions to reach for Ecksu’s, gently.

_Control yourself._

Ecksu returns the action, slender fingers gripping around Zero’s with a warm smile. “A zenny for your thoughts?”

“I…” Zero starts.

Wants Ecksu to look only at him. Keep the civiloid and reduce any potential threat that comes close to either of them into nothing. Ecksu is a pure outsider of anything and everything else related to Zero; not a Hunter, not a fighter, Ecksu is a random variable and the Red Ripper some-fritzing-how managed to have this.

Zero gently tugs Ecksu forward and the other robot lets him. As much as Zero disapproves that Ecksu insists on wearing human clothing, it’s convenient that the civiloid lacks the bulk that comes with reploid armor; he’s slender and it’s easy for Zero to wrap himself all over the smaller robot, slotting himself in the narrow empty spaces of the other’s body and burrowing his head into Ecksu’s neck. Completely covering all exposed areas with his own build like a walking shield.

Ecksu involuntarily giggles when the strands of Zero’s hair tickles the side of his face – which hitches into a soft gasp when Zero starts nosing along his neck. Ecksu’s hand reflexively tighten over Zero’s back, more hanging on than embracing back, and it’s mesmerizing to feel than hear Ecksu’s vents grow stronger.

“I won’t see you for a while after tonight,” Zero says into Ecksu’s cervical cables, admiring the way Ecksu shivers (sensitive, so sensitive). “I need to compensate while I’m still here.”

“Do you…” Ecksu swallows, an artificial movement that catches Zero’s eye. “Have any suggestions?”

“Can I spend the night with you?”

Ecksu lets out a breathy chuckle, a strange mix of something nervous yet anticipatory. “I admit I didn’t expect you to be that forward. This is happening earlier than I thought…”

“Early?”

Frowning, the combatdroid pulls away, calculations running through his head. He doesn’t notice Ecksu’s ungraceful squawk. 

“I know the gist of your schedule. After you close up shop, you typically spend between one to two hours to restock supplies. I initially thought that would give us a couple hours to be together unless you have other work to do. We don’t need to spend time together _now_ if you’re too busy. I don’t want to interfere with your directive. At least I’m hoping I can be with you in your spare time before we have to separate to our respective homes.” Zero nods, satisfied. “If that means waiting until you’re done, I can do that.”

Ecksu is completely silent. He’s staring at Zero as if the red robot slapped him. Zero frowns again, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“You…I thought you were…!”

Ecksu chokes. Face flushing, the civiloid drops down mid-sentence, knees to chest, hands grasping his head as he releases a mortified noise. Zero jolts, combat mode reflexively scanning surroundings of any invisible threats while he physically stands there, looking down in complete bewilderment.

“Ecksu?”

“I’m the worst, the absolute _worst – “_

“What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s – “ Ecksu shakes his head, still not rising up. “Hah, oh frag me. Everything is perfectly fine. _I’m_ the horrible person here.”

“But you’re not?” says the former Maverick, totally lost. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“You don’t need to. Please give me a moment to clear my mind.”

The Hunter waits for an entire minute as Ecksu breathes in and out meditatively, the redness fading slowly from his face. Finally, the burger flipper shoots up straight with a smile that teeters between strained and amused.

“So! That happened. Anyways, I’d love to spend more time with you!”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yep. I was having conflicting assessments but I’ve sorted it all now!” the shorter robot says with a cheerfulness that even Zero knows is forced. Before Zero can press the issue any further, Ecksu interrupts him with a kiss, full and warm. It sufficiently wipes Zero’s processor blank for a second.

Ecksu hooks an arm around Zero’s, guiding them to the truck’s doors. “If you don’t mind, you can hang with me while I get more pickles. After that, we can do whatever we want. How does that sound?”

Zero blinks. “Good.”  

“Great! Let’s go!”

 _I’ve missed something,_ thinks Zero, irked at himself in more ways than one. Ecksu is executing evasive tactics and Zero is making meager effort to corner him.

Then they’re in the front seats and Ecksu is kissing him again, and if Zero had any thoughts of confronting the smaller robot it’s all gone now.  

 

* * *

 

Beach Calimaru is a kilometer and a half of white sand that shimmers like jewels under the sun. It curves like a crescent moon over a shallow bay, dotted with artificial palm trees with both real and mechanical seagulls that chase and flee from the waves. There are towels and umbrellas everywhere, pinned down with bags and baskets. Some are accompanied with their owners and some left alone. No one is worried that their items will be robbed.

And there’s no need to be since Calimaru is now the opposite of what it was two years ago: covered in litter and sun-baked seaweed, a festival for flies and pests and unsavory characters until the Sixth Armada set up their offshore base because of the geographical location. Hunter presence means high security and maintenance. Reploids quickly swept away the trash, humans invested in hotels and clubs, and tourism is at an all-time high. Both the locals and tourists are pleased with the result.

The only one who isn’t is Zero, who secretly wishes it was as bad as it used to be. The novelty of the scenery change lasted for ten minutes once Zero scanned the environment, detected nothing of significant interest, and is left alone to his own devices. Sigma had made it a rule that his only Hunter-related point of contact would be Launch Octopus because of the proximity, and the Sixth Unit Leader was offended when Zero asked if Calimaru had any problem areas that he can actively patrol.

In Launch Octopus’ words, “Wherever I go, my stage must always be safe and beautiful. I run a tight ship, Zero. If I don’t, how else would I get any practice done without some dreadful siren interrupting every five minutes?”

For once, Launch Octopus’ perfectionist tendencies is a detriment to Zero’s interests.

A seagull mech hops close to Zero. It stares at him. He glares at it back. The seagull’s surveillance cameras for eyes whir as they hone into him suspiciously. But then it spots the Maverick Hunters emblem etched modestly on Zero’s armor, nods once, and flies off.

The warbot grimaces.

This is pathetic. That fake bird is being more productive than he is.

Restlessness peaking, Zero raises Launch Octopus. When the aquatic-based animaloid doesn’t answer, Zero calls again.  

Five calls later, Launch Octopus finally picks up the summon, disgusted. _”This better be an emergency because I’m in an oil bath and_ no one _bothers me during oil bath time,”_ he snaps.

“Send me the authorization codes to the HCC,” demands Zero, too antsy to bother caring the underlying threat.

The animaloid scoffs. _“How rude. You could at least offer me an apology for bothering me like this. Didn’t the Commander teach you manners when he brought you in?”_

“He’s the one who sent me here in the first place,” grumbles Zero. “Anyways, the codes.”

_“The HCC codes? You do mean the Hunters Communication Cloud, yes? How in the bolts did you lose access in the first place? I thought you were ever the perfect little Hunter.”_

“I didn’t. Sigma’s denying me access until I return to Abel. He’s cutting me off anything work-related until the end of my stay.”

 _“Well then, why would you make an oil spill out of that? If I were you, I’d be having the time of my life._ _Oh how I envy you. As a Unit Leader I have to always be on call and thus I’m in no position to receive free days. A shame that no one else can do the work I do. Tis the burdens of the indispensable I suppose.”_ The animaloid sighs dramatically. _“The locals deserve a chance to mingle with me. I can only imagine that they’re going bolts with the same old, unenlightened drudgery of the mainstream. Even the uncultured should be allowed to witness beauty at least once in their fleeting lives.”_

“…The codes, Launch Octopus.”

_“Oh, about that. I mustn’t, Zero.”_

The warbot’s jaws tighten. “Why not.”

_“That would be against the Commander’s orders. If he took away your access then it would be pointless if I give you the Sixth Unit’s, wouldn’t it?”_

“I only want to check in with the Navigators.” Because if no one is going to take the Critical Threat seriously then Zero will do it himself. “It’s not going against orders if I message them a question. I’ll still be stuck here.” Unfortunately.  

Launch Octopus hums. Then cheerfully, he answers,” _I’d rather not risk being on Commander Sigma’s bad side. Otherwise, what if he makes me do something I wouldn’t like? Like he did to you?”_ The animaloid proceeds to laugh in such an obnoxiously haughty manner that has Zero’s fingers twitching to transform into a buster.  

Zero is reminded again that while he’s aligned with the Maverick Hunters, he can’t really call anyone within the organization a friend.

Running out of patience, the Red Ripper growls, “It’s one thing to say no, it’s another to rub acid on me. Are you trying to antagonize me on purpose?”

 _“Oh please, I’m simply trying not to antagonize Sigma. I’m only saying the truth,”_ replies Launch Octopus faux-sympathetically. _“Now don’t be a shortfin mako. You won’t expire if you don’t stop doing, well, you. Why don’t you take up dance lessons to pass the time? That’ll do you some good._

_“Speaking of dancing, I’ve got capoeira to practice. You’re more than welcome to come to my station and observe my art. That is, if you’re willing to make the trip. If not, too-da-loo!”_

The other robot hops out of the channel just as Zero hears a loud whistle aimed at his general direction. At first Zero doesn’t acknowledge it, but then the comments come and they can’t be targeted at anyone else but him.

“Hey blondie, if you’re bored you can join me!”

“Isn’t that armor hot, sweetie?”

“Come oonnn, you’re at the beach! Take it off!”

Zero drags his gaze to a group of chortling humans sitting some distance away, snickering to each other at some unknown joke. They’re loud enough that their voices carry over to where the Hunter is standing.

They’re neither the first nor will be the last to grace Zero with such attention. The warbot is aware that he’s been receiving a number of stares since he arrived; he’s a fully armored combat model surrounded by majorly humans who, for some inane reason, lessened their already meager protection against the elements by exposing more flesh. Zero knows how fragile humans are, how easily they burn and - according to Ecksu - how they require careful amounts of specific minerals to keep their bodies functioning.

Yet these people are voluntarily setting their skins on fire under the glaring sun while frolicking in a giant body of water with obscene amounts of bacteria, parasites, viruses, and other contaminations. Where they can drown in at any moment. Because they can’t breathe underwater. _For fun._

Zero doesn’t get it and he doesn’t want to.

So he looks away from the latest bored group of civilians futilely attempting to cajole him to join their nonsense, ignoring the muttered, “Whatever,” and “Weirdo. He’s just standing there, menacingly,” and scans the perimeters for the hundredth time again.

Threat assessment still finds nothing categorized above moderate.

Rust.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Zero, sorry that I broke off the call earlier. There was a pop-up concert at the park and I had customers passed sundown.”

Hearing Ecksu’s voice is like having a sip of an e-tank after going days on without it. Zero peers at the recently acquired recharge tube that’s installed next to the forlorn king sized bed in the corner of his suite (the reploid hotel staff amiably proffered up a spare one for the Hunter) and walks passed it to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m just glad I can talk to you,” Zero says earnestly.

“As long as it doesn’t get too busy at The Blue Burger, I can be on chat. Anyways, you’re at the coast, right? How is it so far?”

“I want to go back to Abel.”

“Zero…a week hasn’t even passed yet.”

“And I already want to leave. There is nothing for me here.”

“There’s plenty to do. There’s swimming, making sandcastles…oh, you can fly a kite if it’s windy enough.”

Zero smirks. “Those aren’t your ideas. You’re looking up things to do at the beach.”

And he knows because he did the same thing earlier and found all the suggestions lacking.

“It’s that obvious, huh?” asks Ecksu sheepishly. “Sorry, to be honest I haven’t had many opportunities to go to the beach for fun. That’s why I’m so excited for you. You shouldn’t be spending all your time chatting with me.”

“I want to,” insists Zero. “I like talking to you. I don’t care for swimming.”

“Are you sure you’re not being stubborn?” asks Ecksu, exasperated and fond. “You haven’t even tried them yet.”

There is a merit in Ecksu’s words - there's always a merit - but Zero isn’t like the other robot. While it may be easier for humans and civilian-based reploids, Zero can’t simply modify his perspective like that. The longer he gazes out, the more his ennui festers like a rusting pipe, threatening to leak and take the entire plumbing down.

Slag it all, there are literally a thousand better things Zero can do and being here is not one of them.

Zero shuts his eyes. “You should be the one here. You would be making the most out of this. Not me.”

“That…is an idea,” says Ecksu thoughtfully. “But when it comes down to it, you’re the one there. Exactly what do you find enjoyable? Besides talking to me that is.”

Reducing all threats to zero.

Except saying it plainly like that to someone like Ecksu doesn’t seem right so Zero says,” I like being productive. It’s meaningful.” He huffs a breath out of his nose. “That’s why Sigma knows this is the best way to punish me. Taking me away from field is the fastest way to drive me bolts.”

“You’re a workaholic. I can’t say I don’t relate to that. But there are many ways to be productive, and what defines an activity as productive varies from person to person. So I have a question, Zero: in a completely peaceful world, what would you do then?”

“A world like that does not exist,” replies the warbot automatically.

“But let’s say it’s possible,” Ecksu presses. “And we achieve it. That we live in a world where humans and reploids coexist in peace. That we don’t achieve just any peace, but everlasting peace. What would you do then?”

The question is perplexing. The notion has never occurred to Zero and if he was asked something similar by any other person, Zero would dismiss the question, finding it to be too vacuous to indulge.

But it’s Ecksu.

“I’ll continue maintaining it so it stays that way.”

The other robot chuckles wistfully in a way that has Zero’s wires crossed. “You don’t really believe such a world would ever exist,” he remarks insightfully. ”That’s understandable. It’s nice that you took my question seriously though. I’ve asked that to a couple people in the past and most just looked at me funny.”

Huh, if Ecksu asked this question multiple times before then it must be important to him. What a strange robot.

“I don’t know what I’d do,” Zero admits. “While I do have the choice to expend my energy into anything outside of fighting, I’m a combat model at my core. A peaceful world ultimately renders my main programming obsolete. It’s…difficult to envision myself to be not me.”

“You say that but you kissed me first,” says Ecksu, soft and warm. “I’m still surprised by that. I never considered anyone to ever view me that way. I think that’s why I’ve been more optimistic lately. I have you to thank for that.”

“Because we’re dating?”

“Sort of. You’re a Hunter and I run a food truck. We’re different in many ways but those differences don’t separate us. That makes me really happy, Zero. Especially since the more I learn about you and what you’re interested in, the more I wonder why you like being with me.”

Zero ruminates. His processor draws up various reasons why he’s drawn to Ecksu but he dismisses them as quickly as they came. Combat mode offers it’s because Ecksu is a safe person to be with – except there’s plenty of nonthreatening individuals out there. That’s nothing special. Is it because Ecksu is nice? No, that’s not it either. Zero wouldn’t be obsessed with anyone who’s simply safe and nice.

Hold on. Obsession?

_“You’re obsessed, Zero.”_

“…It’s because you challenge me,” says Zero fervently, suddenly overwhelmed by the weight of the revelation. Understanding hits him so hard that the usual, accompanying loathing that comes with anything related to the Critical Threat pales.

“I challenge you?” Ecksu sounds surprised. “What do you mean by that?”

It takes a moment for Zero to find the right words. “You…you talk about matters that I don’t think of. You have a completely different yet viable perspective on subjects that makes me consider them in a way I don’t before.”

“Ah, so I challenge your beliefs?”

“Yes. I’ve never had to question myself or any of the beliefs I had until I met you.” Zero exvents harshly. “I’m strong, Ecksu. Very few out there can stand equal grounds to me. Not many dare to even risk crossing me. But you don’t care about that. You’re not scared of me and you’re not scared to disagree with me. You’re not a combatant yet you’re a rival all the same.”

“That’s an interesting way to view me. I’ve never been anyone’s boyfriend or rival before, let alone both,” says Ecksu with a light tone.  

"And I’ve never been anything more than a weapon,” cuts in Zero. “I don’t remember anything before the Hunters. I had no memories and I had to figure out that with my assets, I’m a combat android. I accepted it and conducted tasks that befits my directive. I was a Hunter and so my mission is to hunt. 

“Then I met you and…you made me more than that. You kept treating me like I’m not a combat model. Bolts, you made me become your friend. By myself, I can’t envision I’d do anything frivolous like going to the ocean without a mission that concerns it.” An uncharacteristic, honest laugh erupts from Zero’s throat.  “But if I’m with you…I wouldn’t mind it because I’m not just a Hunter. I’m yours.”

Zero grins, carefree and open. “That’s why whichever world it is, one I have to fight or one where I don’t need to…I want to be with you. You’re the world to me.”

Ecksu’s end is nothing but static. It stretches on enough that a part of Zero wonders if he said something wrong. “Ecksu, are you still there?” he asks tentatively.

“I am,” the other robot replies shakily. “I…I don’t know what to say to that.”

Zero’s shoulders drop tension. That makes sense. Retrospectively, Zero has never allowed his vocal unit run off for so long at once.

But he can’t find it in himself to regret it. Bizarrely, it feels refreshing to disclose so much.

Is this what trust feels like? Handing someone a buster and turning one’s back, absolutely confident they’ll never shoot? It’s both comforting and exhilarating. Rust, no wonder people dare to reveal so much of themselves to others, even go out their way to seek it.

“You don’t need to say anything. I wanted to let you know how much you matter to me.”

“I…” A shuddered intake. “You’re important to me too, Zero. I’ve never met anyone like you - and that’s saying something since I’ve met a lot of people.” Ecksu laughs but it comes out weak and wavering, like he’s pushing out the noise to clear up his vents. “By the way, I've been receiving major catering orders. I'm going to be super busy for the next couple of days so I won't be able to talk for a while."

The Hunter stiffens. “I understand.”

"But!" Ecksu blurts as if sensing Zero's disappointment. "But once I'm done, I can come see you!"

Zero's eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"I own a truck. I can literally go wherever I want. So I'm going to work super hard to finish what I have to do here and come see you. So just wait for me, okay? A little bit longer and I'm all yours."

_All mine._

“Absolutely,” Zero says swiftly, mood instantly boosted to unprecedented levels.

He's going to have Ecksu all to himself? Here, away from the Maverick Hunter stresses, away from the Critical Threat, with nothing standing in his way having his fill of the other robot?

Zero changes his mind. Clearly Sigma is a brilliant bot who cares for the well-being of his Hunters and completely deserves to be designated as the Commander. Vacations are wonderful, Zero was too narrow-sighted to understand, and he's going to have Ecksu in his arms again. 

The call ends and Zero goes to recharge, eagerly counting the seconds down.

 

* * *

 

The Maridewa Hotel Resort directly faces the harbor, giving its guests a clear view of the rows of cruisers, trawlers, bowriders and more bouncing idly along to lazy waves. Zero makes it a routine to walk along the docks; it’s not that he particularly cares for the scenery as much as the docks are conveniently placed on his way to elsewhere. Spending all his time in the hotel room doesn’t appeal to him especially since Zero's build is designed to function on minimal recharge (so he can't pass the time faster sleeping through it all, smelt it).

Secretly he has been hoping to encounter an Irregular or a Maverick to break his boredom though he’s aware how unlikely it is; mainland Calimaru doesn’t have that many robots to begin with like Abel City does.   

Which is why Zero stops, curious, when he sees a line of black and white reploids stand formally by a ramp leading to what he estimates a fifty-six meter long, triple deck motor yacht. It’s the most amount of reploids he’s seen outside of the hotel staff. Similar to the Maverick Hunters, their helmets are designed like human uniform wear and they bow their heads politely to every human passenger who walks pass.

“Oh hell no, did my dad seriously sent you?”

Zero glances over his shoulder. Two men who look like every other human he’s seen on the beach so far: plain t-shirts, swimming shorts, caps, sunglasses and backpacks. They carry themselves with a swagger that reminds the A-Rank Hunter of Flame Mammoth whenever the animaloid is leading his own modestly heighted unit members.

One man smacks his friend’s shoulder lightly. “What’s up man?”

“Dad’s been jumpy lately because of what happened to Paul and Logan so he said he’d get a Hunter here for extra security. I told him we’re going to freakin’ Huvuni but apparently he’s still paranoid if he called them. God, I didn't think he'd actually do it.”

“Dude, chill. It’s just one guy. That’s not enough to bring the party down.” A pause. “Hey, they didn’t send more than you, right? The yacht’s big but we still got a limit.”

Zero, who’s been listening to the conversation and scanning the perimeters, replies, “Let me confirm,” and walks a couple steps away, hand raised to his helmet.

The Maverick Hunters aren’t hired help. They’ll take on escort missions if there’s a reasonable amount of concern that a Maverick will appear, but ultimately they’re law enforcement, not mercenaries. Since Zero hasn’t sensed any other Hunter presence so far, the request must have been rejected.

 _But because I’m here, they think we accepted it,_ Zero guesses, glancing back at the two men again as he waits for his call to go through.

Finally Launch Octopus enters the channel. _“Zero, what is it this time?”_

“Launch Octopus, I have a question. If the Maverick Hunters received a job – “

 _“Ugh, are you serious?”_ Launch Octopus interrupts, sounding disgusted. _“What did I say before? No talk about work! And here I thought you’d take up my offer about the dance show. What a turn-off. Goodbye!”_

“Wait, I didn’t finish explain – “

Static. Chagrined, Zero shoots a glare at the ocean where Launch Octopus’ outpost would be.

Until he realizes that this is an opportunity to sufficiently dampen his boredom for now.

“I’ll be the only one guarding you for your trip,” says Zero facing the men again. “Relay me the mission details.”

“What, my dad didn’t tell you?” The man shakes his head, grumbling. “Whatever. Just stay out of the way. We’re having a party so we don’t need you to be such a tight-ass.”

“Whoa, relax dude. He’s just here to do his job.” The other man steps forward with a grin. “Sup, I’m Emilio and the asshole over there – “

“Hey!”

“- is Zidane.”

Emilio’s arm swings out in a motion that’s aimed across Zero’s shoulders – which the warbot foresees and steps to the side delicately for it to miss. The man’s arm hovers awkwardly before hanging back down to his side with a shrug. “Anyways, like he said we’re just having a party while we get to the other side of the bay. There’s gonna be beer, cute girls, and the worst that can happen is someone gets drunk and trips off the boat, no big deal. Easy job, you’ll love it!”

Zero already hates it.

 _At least it’ll be something to tell Ecksu when I see him,_ he thinks, already imagining how happy the encouraging civiloid would be at hearing Zero's attempt to try different things. 

The warbot walks half a step behind Zidane and Emilio into the yacht, acknowledging the reploids studying him curiously with a nod. Once on board, he's abandoned to his own devices, not given any more direction. Like subroutine, Zero briefly checks for any environmental advantages and disadvantages then goes up the stairs to reach the third deck. He passes the outdoor bar, circular jacuzzi, and chaise lounge chairs to the very front railing and rests against it. Positioned at a high vantage point and approximately at the center of the yacht, Zero can react in equal measure if anything happens in either the front or the back of the boat.

Not that he personally expects anything to happen but combat mode is extra vigilant in unfamiliar territory. He's indulging it. 

More passengers come aboard and the yacht gradually raises in volume. The ramp pulls up after the last of the guests arrive and the ship sets off. The black and white reploids that Zero saw earlier double as crewmen and waiters; they quietly oversee the vessel equipment, clean after the guests as they flutter from room to room, and walk around carrying trays of shots and hors d’oeuvres.

Eventually some guests make their way to the top of deck where Zero stands vigilant, all rosy cheeks and white teeth. People would see Zero and ignore him for the bar, requesting for brightly colored drinks, talking about nothing. The warbot checks the time. Still noon. Ecksu would be busy with the lunch rush for the next couple of hours.

Two women dash to the hot tub and squeal when a third hops in with both feet at the same time, splashing them. Three men join with corked bottles in hand. The get emptied at an impressive speed. Music is pounding out from every speaker throughout the ship that Zero can feel the deck underneath him pulsing in beat. Any higher and Zero would have to lower his hearing sensitivity.  

Huh, that’s an interesting thought. Utilizing high volumes to detract enemies from effectively communicating or paying attention to the battle is a potential strategy.

Maybe Zero does have something useful to take away from all of this.

A flushed woman stumbles next to Zero with a giggle, movements wobbly like a scouting drone operated by amateur Navigators. Tossing her long dark hair back, she grins up to Zero. “Hey, why do you have so much hair?”

Zero blinks. “I was designed like this.”

Her bikini strap is sliding off her shoulder and Zero’s eyes flit to the subtle movement when she fixes it back on.

She looks down on her chest and back to Zero with a sly grin. “Like what you see, robot boy?”

“Nicole, what are you doing over there?” a woman from the tub calls.

“I’m just talking, Kat!” the woman says Nicole shouts back. She faces Zero again, head angled as she eyes Zero up and down though the warbot can’t guess how effective her assessment can be when she’s clearly under the influence. Whatever data she gathers is corrupted.

“So you’re a Hunter huh? You’re pretty cute for a reploid,” she judges approvingly, tossing her long black hair. “I’ve never been with a robot before. What about you? Have you been with a human girl before?”

“Oh my god, you _are_ trying to fuck the Hunter!”

“Shut up, can you blame me? Look at him!” Nicole shrills to the burst of raucous laughter. “Like you haven’t thought about doing it with a reploid before, bitch!”

“You don’t even know if he’s got a dick!”

“They can have both!” a man exclaims. “I’ve seen them. Reploids are wild!”

“Seriously?” Nicole turns back to Zero, brows set in a serious line. “Hey, is what he’s saying is true? Do reploids have both?”

Zero’s face stays aloof over his growing contempt. How is it that he was doing absolutely nothing and still attracted the guests’ attention.

“I can’t speak for other reploids,” the warbot says professionally when the humans keep urging him for an answer. “I personally have the pseudo-male genitalia. I halted the operation before I could be installed with the other one.”

“What? Dude, if I was a reploid, I’d get both,” Emilio inputs cheerfully, suddenly sidling next to Zero from the opposite side of Nicole. “Just to try it out. If I don’t like it, I’d get rid of it. Boom, no regrets.”

“It’s not,” Zero corrects. “The operations may require opening the reploid’s build up to connect the power distributors and sensory wires to the processor. Over time, more connections can be made. Removal is even harder since it means disconnecting all those lines on top of newer ones.”

“Really? Well, I wouldn’t want to get rid of anything. I like having options,” says Emilio, brows waggling. The upper deck launches into guffaws again, exacerbated with positive vibes and liquor.

Except for Zero who freezes. He’s turning around against the railing, eyes searching the horizon before he understands what’s going on.

For reasons beyond him, combat mode is gearing up.

Peripheral scan: nothing in the sky and the yacht is the only vessel in a couple kilometer radius. No risk of collision. Proximity sensors detect no changes from within the yacht the past hour. Every individual Zero scans on sight hasn’t risen any higher in threat assessment either.

That means whatever has combat mode anxious is coming somewhere that Zero can’t see.

_Something’s in the water._

Abruptly, Zero climbs on top of the tailing, igniting reactions from the surrounding humans, and pounces to the lowest deck. Someone from above calls him to not make a dent on the wooden flooring but he’s too distracted. He walks back and forth along the bow.   

As if someone kicked him, Zero jolts when threat assessment springs high.

No way. It can’t be. 

He raises his hearing, winces at the pounding music, but now he can hear the sounds of splashing coming somewhere on the stern. He’s gaining faster, barreling past the bemused service reploids. There’s a wet trail leading inside the cabins and Zero follows it, opening door after door with unneeded force.

There’s a servant reploid whose back is to Zero’s, bending over a laptop on a desk, the backpack the Hunter recognizes belonging to Zidane next to them zipped open. The spot beneath them is damp with dripping ocean water. At Zero’s entering, they stiffen and turn slowly.

The reploid is fully masked.

The instinctive rush of conflicting emotions drives straight into the warbot's head; fury, anticipation and, after days waiting for something worthy of attention to occur, relief. Zero's boredom is completely gone.

The Critical Threat whole-bodily slackens like a dropped jaw.

“Oh you got to be fritzing kidding me."


	7. Chapter 7

Typically whenever Zero in engaged in battle, saber out and ready to terminate all threats in sight, any bystanders around would already be screaming and fleeing away. Even if someone comes to see where all the noise is coming from, as soon as they see trouble, they run.

But Zero isn’t in Abel City. He’s in a private party yacht where the music is blasting so hard outside that he can hear them bounce the walls within the cabin. All of the humans are more or less intoxicated by now so the only person that opens the door when Zero is chasing the Critical Threat down is of course one of the reploid crewmen.

The waiter reploid does a double-take. “What is going on here, sir?!” He sees the Target’s current colors and arrives to the most unfortunate conclusion. “Sir, if one of us has offended you, please take your complaints to our employer please! If you - ”

The waiter yelps when Zero tackles the masked reploid into the wall by the door. The collision smacks the ornamental painting from above and the waiter shrieks, horrified. There's practically calculated damage costs running through the crewman's eyes.

“They’re not one of you!” Zero hisses when the Critical Threat grasps his saber arm, fingers gripping beyond the wrist guard and digging into the cable mechanisms.

“H-He’s clearly wearing our uniform, sir!”

Zero stops pushing his blade further and changes tactics, forcibly tugging his arm away, provoking a shocked grunt. The momentum pulls the Maverick in close enough for Zero to head-butt them hard enough for a crack spider-web across their mask.

Zero gestures at the mask flippantly, “Is _that_ part of the uniform as well?” before charging in again. “Keep the passengers on the top deck away from here and call the Maverick Hunters!”

The Critical Threat reacts quickly and they’re swapping blows back and forth.

The crewman's face falls. “Can you please not use the sword, sir? Everything here belongs to - ”

_“NOW!”_

Flinching, the waiter speeds away in a panic right when the masked reploid tosses something on the ground with a harsh clack. The cabin bursts into smoke but there’s no heat. Zero relies on his proximity sensors to dodge the multiple flying presences at his way, seeing glints of flashing metal as they shoot pass him.

Kunais.

The Critical Threat pounces from the veil with an aggressive swing (and, to Zero’s vexation, a newly transformed helmet that’s conspicuously reinforced around the eyes and nose bridge) that smacks the saber’s hilt off of Zero’s hand, followed with a kick aimed at the waist that the Hunter blocks in time. With a boost of the thrusters, the Target charges with arms around Zero’s waist, rolling them both across the room, knocking down chairs on the way. It ends up with the other reploid sitting on top in full mount position – but Zero knees up with a bridge kick against the back, forcing the reploid to fall forward with a pained “Ach!” Their hands reflexively break the fall by splaying against the floor by Zero’s helmet, their elbows now conveniently within range for the Hunter to seize one. Before he can exploit the imbalanced position and roll back up for the advantage, the same arm Zero grabbed twists. A small blade points between the cervical cables under Zero’s chin.

It’s rare for anyone to corner Zero in such a disadvantageous position, let alone aim a weapon so threateningly close near a vulnerable area. The fight devolves: where Zero is trying to get the blade away and regain the upper hand while the Critical Threat is trying to keep Zero pinned in place.

“Something’s different here. This time there’s no pre-existing conflict for you to play vigilante. You’re not running away and you’re on the full-offensive.” Zero briefly scans the reploid above him. “Your armor isn’t just a disguise. The smoke bombs, kunais, acoustic absorption metamaterial -

The reploid above him tenses. “How can you…?”

“ – designed for stealth. You preplanned to infiltrate this ship. What are you trying to gain?”

The other robot exvents harshly. “I still don’t want to fight you. Slag it all - you weren’t supposed to be here!”

“I’m sure you weren’t on the guest’s list either,” Zero growls back.

“What I mean,” the Maverick starts, pushing forward an inch in a surge of frustration, “is that the chances of meeting you, specifically _you_ , here, in this specific boat in the middle of the ocean is extremely improbable, and yet it happened anyway! Just when I thought I had everything lined up neatly, it turns out like this instead. This is ridiculous. I’m starting to wonder if the universe is playing one big joke on me.”

Zero bounds back, the front edge of his helmet touching the other’s with a harsh clink. “If you don’t want me to personally interrogate you later, start speaking sense!”

“You don’t need to know anything. I’m so, _so_ close,” they whisper, trembling in their tug-of-war against Zero. “A little bit longer and you won’t see me ever again.”

Borrowing Zero’s trick from earlier, the masked reploid releases and knocks both of them off-balance. They both recover at the same time, but the Critical Threat isn’t engaging in battle anymore. They’re dashing back to the desk where Zero first found them and plucks a previously looked over dongle right from the laptop’s port.

Zero doesn’t think. He automatically swipes a kunai that’s fallen near him and throws it at the Maverick’s wrist with expert precision. The Maverick yelps, the dongle flying from their hand and sliding across the floor. Both robots dive for the USB.

The Critical Threat shoves Zero’s face away. “You don’t even know what it’s for!”

Zero retaliates with a punch across the helm. “I don’t care. If you think I’m going to let you do whatever you like, think again.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing,” the Critical Threat hisses.

“Then would you care to explain yourself? You never had a problem giving me excuses before,” says Zero coldly.

“What the hell is going on here!?”

Zero peers up to where the new voice came from. Combat mode is so fixated with the enemy in front of him that he didn’t register outsiders and his eyes land at a bewildered Zidane hovering by the door with the reploid waiter standing fearfully behind him. The human appears to be taking in the entire madness and failing to compute. 

Civilian presence makes his job drastically harder. Zero glares at the waiter.

“Master Zidane insisted to see the situation himself,” the reploid defends weakly as the human in question pales, finally processing the full weight of the scene.

While Zero’s distracted, the Maverick snakes an arm around and seizes a handful of the blond Hunter’s hair - and _pulls_.

Zero makes a sharp intake. Unless he turns off the function beforehand, the ultrathin, golden wires are sensitive to even the subtlest changes in air currents. They’re his second pair of eyes, allowing him to “see” further, reporting everything from changes to his environment to the general specs of the entities around him.

And they’re overwhelmed. Zero’s sight is so full: receptors detailing out the nirile coating, the PU texture, the grip (this isn’t their full strength, _they’re holding back),_ but it’s the obscure, leaner, denser shape below the white surface of the glove that throws Zero off the mental curb.

(It's familiar.)

For a second, Zero is blind. It’s apparently more than enough for the Maverick to swiftly win the dongle. A small compartment opens up on their knee guard and they promptly stash the tiny device inside.

Zero is shaking off the lingering confusion of what transpired when the Maverick blatantly nudges the spluttering crewman aside at the door with a dissonantly polite,” Sorry about the mess,” before running pass him.

The combatdroid lifts himself off from the ground, plucks his saber up along the way in one fluid motion and gives chase, ignoring the indignant squawks as he blasts out of the room. The Maverick is hopping over coffee tables and knocking down armchairs in the rooms between hallways. Zero dodges and slices every tossed obstacle in his way without prejudice.

Right before the Maverick reaches the entrance out to the deck, their speed drops, allowing Zero to catch up to them faster than he expected.

It’s made clear why immediately: the Critical Threat’s build is transforming again.

Their armor is distributing more mass to their chest and upper torso; their arms lengthen and their calves shorten. Their shoulder and ankle joints are more exposed than ever and their helmet is growing two narrow wings.

Urgency peaks. Zero calculates the amount of power he’s allowed to utilize without inflicting heavy damage to the yacht and activates his thrusters. He jumps forth, saber blazing.

Zero can’t let the Target get away again. The Hunter needs to take them down before they complete transforming.

_“Oh shit!”_

The Hunter deactivates his blade at the last nanosecond, thinly avoiding lopping his target’s head fins off because the length of the blade could have decapitated the fritzing, stupid human that chose to pop right in front of them at that moment.

The human falls back on his butt with a shocked shout, raising their arms protectively though both Zero and the Maverick are stepping around him.

The commotion must finally be reaching the upper decks; more guests are arriving downstairs to Zero’s chagrin. They’re trading self-preservation for phones, an audience standing around idly as if they’re not recording two robots beating each other into scrap.

“ - hey guys, I know I said I won’t be uploading any videos this week because I’d be chilling on Councilor Andrew’s private yacht, but check this out!”

“Oh my god, this is insane. I think I’m going to witness my first murder. Well, it’s robot murder but it counts.”

“Oooohhh that gotta leave a mark.”

“This isn’t a show!” Zero roars to the spectators. “Get back upstairs – it’s too dangerous and you’re in the way!” Because as long as they’re within Zero’s saber range, he can’t use his sword lest he risks injuring a civilian.

“The red guy over there? That’s a freakin’ Hunter and he’s fighting a Maverick – right on the boat I’m on! Now I know what you’re thinking: why is there a Hunter and a Maverick on the yacht?”

Except no one seems to care. Fritz, is Zero really obliged to be the sword and shield for those who lack any self-preservation instinct? These people practically deserve to be filtered by natural selection.

Annoyance fuels the next punch, which ultimately costs Zero.

The force sends the Maverick staggering against the nearest railing. Recovering their footing, they face Zero, their colors changing.

The black and white fade away for navy blue. The underdeveloped twin wings on the reploid’s head lengthen to their back and their legs form propellers.

 _Smelt it,_ Zero realizes too late.

The Maverick throws themself off the boat. The Elite Hunter automatically dives after them.

Zero’s world becomes a pure, deep blue with white flashes of bubbles. Fish and minor critters scatter away in droves, leaving Zero’s path to his target clear.

The Maverick visibly panics. They didn’t expect Zero to come after them.

“You’re going to have to let me go this time,” they manage to communicate through the water, kicking away frantically. They’re a faster swimmer than Zero, but the warbot isn’t discouraged. His thrusters have plenty of fuel so as long as he uses them in short bursts, he can incapacitate the Maverick before they’re too far from the ship and he has to give up the chase.

_INCOMING._

Threat assessment spikes. Zero loses command to his survival programming and he’s already halted pursuing before he hears a low whirring emitting from his target. The Critical Threat has kicked up, body straightened diagonally downwards away, legs pointed. 

Their silhouette looks like a torpedo.

Zero lets himself sink just as an intense rush of air explodes like a bullet above him. The warbot raises his arms protectively over himself as the resulting wave churns him away, gyros failing to stabilize. While spinning away, his eyes catch the enormous bubble that bounds close to the side of the yacht behind him.

 _The bubble jet effect,_ the warbot recognizes distantly.

He watches in what feels like slow-motion when the bubble shoots straight up like a watery blade from hell. Though muffled, Zero can hear the resulting plume that’s rocking the yacht at a disturbingly severe angle above surface. The boat whines. Screaming and sounds of splashing pierces underwater. The passengers have fallen off from the other side while the Maverick has vanished into the murky depths, a blue speck amongst a bluer expanse.

Threat assessment’s dwindling voice the only evidence they’re within pursuing distance. The Red Ripper still has a chance.

But the human passengers...they weren’t equipped with any life jackets when Zero saw them.

He peers behind him towards the surface.

Five bodies: three swimming in place and staying buoyant, one is a reploid waiter who must have come with safety features installed; there’s a round shadow that’s floating gingerly to the humans. An inflatable ring buoy. Another human is struggling but at least her head is above the water and she’s paddling to the ring buoy…

Correction: six bodies. The last one is sinking with a trail of bubbles frothing on the way down.

Cursing, the Crimson Hunter turns back.

 

* * *

 

“Ow ow ow!”

“Relax,” commands Zero.

“But my foot...”

“Is injured. That’s why you need to relax. It’ll lessen the damage when I take you back.”

While the yacht didn’t capsize, the momentum carried it kilometers away from the overboard civilians by the time it came circle. Prioritizing the injured first, Zero shuttles each fallen person one by one; he grabs them underneath their arms and brings them close to the yacht where the crewmen lower life rafts for the passengers to climb in.

Not that it was needed since the Sixth Unit's first responders show up (long after the action ended to Zero's chagrin).

At least they sped up the rescue efforts.

As the rest of the Unit proceeds to check over the ship and ask questions to the passengers, Volt Kraken personally takes Zero to an obscure spot to hear the red Hunter’s report.

"When Launch Octopus told me you were in the area, I had an inkling you would be somehow involved with this," remarks the squid animaloid after Zero finishes. "Rarely anything happens out here. But first you're sent here and now this? Guess we were overdue for Maverickism.”

“As far as Maverick incidents occur, this one is minor. Strange, but minor,” replies Zero quietly, reviewing the event in mind.

“I’ve heard stories of what usually happens in Abel,” agrees Volt Kraken. “Here, the worst we would get are gulpfers that hit their heads one too many times and become Irregular, but that’s becoming less of an issue lately. Too few robots for any form of Maverickism to occur. But thanks to this, the Hunters could stay here a bit longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know where our jurisdiction lies. We're not involved with anything outside of robot-related incidents. If there aren't that many robots to begin with, what's the point of us being stationed here? 

Zero’s eyes flit to the black and white reploid crewmen and Volt Kraken shakes his head.

“Not the same. Yes, you would see reploids staffing the hotels, clubs and boats, but most of them originally transferred here from upper management. This hasn’t been a popular vacation spot for reploids lately. Less robots, less chance for any Irregularities or Maverickism to occur in the first place.”

“And yet Sigma sent me here,” murmurs Zero under his exvent. Retrospectively, this explains the lax security. Less Hunters, less security mechs to oversee. Zero did wonder earlier why the Critical Threat hadn’t set off any trespassing alerts on their way to the yacht.

“Is there a reason for the fewer reploids?”

“Councilor Andrew has gotten it in the locals’ heads that less technology will boost tourism." Lacking human facial features, Volt Kraken manages to appear disapproving. “We brought the bora bora and the hekos to clean up shoreline. He’s fine with robots when they directly benefit him but doesn’t want them to have a place here. Since this is his yacht, I hope he reconsiders his agenda.”

“This yacht belongs to a Councilor?”

“You didn’t know? That human name Zidane - he's his son.”

Zero's eyes narrow. "The Maverick was using his laptop before they fled. There's a connection there. We need to take in Zidane's laptop and find out what the Maverick took."

"Let's see if we can at all," mutters the squid reploid. Volt Kraken twists away with a hand to his temple, speaking softly into his radio. A minute later he turns back to Zero with a helpless shrug.

"I had one of my members request to investigate the laptop. We received a negative."

That's it?

"What do you mean a negative?"

"Zidane doesn't want to hand over his laptop."

"That's...that doesn't make any sense," Zero replies, bewildered. "The Maverick took something from his laptop. He's the main victim in this oil spill - why doesn't he want to know why he was targeted?"

"Humans store all kinds of highly personal information in their laptops. Since we don't have a search warrant, we can't do anything right now."

"This is a waste of my time," says the warbot impatiently. "I was there. I saw with my own optics that the Maverick was using his laptop. I'm allowed to seize that laptop without a warrant."

"Not unless you want everything to go straight to acid," Volt Kraken mutters in a way he didn't mean for Zero to hear, but the Elite Hunter hears it all the same.

"Elaborate," demands Zero.

Volt Kraken manages to pull of a grimace despite lacking humanoid facial features. "This situation already has numerous complications stacking on top of each other.  From what I figured, you took on an unauthorized mission. If a Maverick didn't come to justify all of this, you’d be penalized for making such decisions if any of this reached higher command."

“I’m on vacation. Technically I’m allowed to do whatever I like with my paid leave," says Zero, borderline flippant.

"But you're not allowed to take on work on behalf of the Hunters. You weren't supposed to be here, and we all know that what’s on paper doesn’t accurately represent what occurred on field. You’re here on ‘paid leave,’ but you’re really here because you rubbed acid on Sigma. On report it’ll say that you went along with some absurd yacht trip and ‘happened’ across a Maverick when actually, you took on a rejected job that had an existing probability of danger anyway. There are many things that happen behind the scenes the audience aren’t aware of.” The animaloid shakes his head. “Launch Octopus always drives that point in to me. Funnily, those words seem to apply to you more than him, and _he’s_ the one who spends hours on stage prep.”

Zero stares at the other reploid for a long moment. The two tentacles on the animaloid’s lower back twitch self-consciously.

"...Anyhow," Volt Kraken coughs politely. "The Hunters still operate under the Council's government, and if the son of a Councilor doesn't want you to press any further? You've hit a block. Here's a suggestion: don't cut wires over water. This took place in the Sixth Armada's territory so this case is ours to handle, not yours," Volt Kraken finishes with a warning look. "I don't like trouble, Zero, and I don't want to deal with something I can avoid."

Blue eyes flash. "You - !"

“Hey! Hey, red Hunter guy!”

Both Zero and Volt Kraken turn heads to an excitedly waving woman rushing to them. Zero recognizes her as one of the passengers who fell overboard.

“Oh, sorry. Was I interrupting anything important?” she asks, looking at between the two Hunters, unsure.

"You're fine. We just finished, right Zero?" says the Sixth Unit Vice-Captain, eyeing Zero from the corner of his vision. Zero sends him a disapproving look in return but it's clear that Volt Kraken is refusing to budge. The animaloid has made his stand.

"Is there anything you need?” Zero voices instead.

“Um, not exactly. I just wanted to thank you for helping me and my friends out earlier,” she says looking at Zero, rubbing her shoulder absentmindedly. “It’s kinda crazy that this happened. I think Dorian’s going through an existential crisis right now. Broken foot in the middle of the sea? Not fun. No one woke up in the morning expecting to be attacked by a Maverick, hah.”

As a Hunter, Zero can’t wholly relate. However, encountering the Critical Threat all the way out here does seem like some warped form of destiny.

"It's our job," he says.

"Also, I was wondering if you know when we're going to come to shore? We've been floating in the same spot for a while."

"We're turning this ship back to port," says Volt Kraken. "Unfortunately, this yacht is now a crime scene so we need to park it properly in order to conduct a more thorough investigation. The nearest forensics lab is back in Thau’muqui."

The human shrugs resignedly. "I thought so. Welp."

"My apologies."

"It's alright. At least it's something to post in my story later. Speaking of which..." 

She takes out her phone, types in practiced elegance, and faces the screen to Zero. "In case you have random people trying to contact you later, you’ll know why.”

It’s a video; the camera is unsteady and the sound is heavy with overlapping chatter and crashing waves, but otherwise it’s a high quality recording of Zero engaging with the Critical Threat. The two androids onscreen dance in a violent choreography across the deck until the Target completed their transformation and dove off the ship just as Zero experienced first-hand.

Volt Kraken, who’s been watching alongside Zero, boggles openly. “That’s the Maverick? Fascinating. I’ve never seen a transformation that smooth. That's not a commonplace tech."

 _Now you see why I want to detain them?_ Zero bites back bitterly as the video continues. After Zero tails behind the Maverick, the camera jostles as the user comes to the railing, peering down the spot where the robots disappeared with concerned comments. The recording ends conclusively when the bubble jet effect shoots up right by the yacht with a cut-off shriek.

“This is all online,” Zero observes,

“Yeah, Emeka uploaded it like twenty minutes ago. It’s already getting a lot of views,” the woman informs, lips twitching.

Not only is there a clear footage of the Critical Threat, but it’s out for everyone to see. It’ll be drastically harder for the masked reploid to keep a low profile after this. There's either going to be a cooldown period or they'll be pressured to finish what they've set out to do faster. 

Either way, they can't run forever. Eventually they'll be forced to reveal themself; it’s only a matter of time.

Volt Kraken hangs his head, sighing from his chest. “Launch Octopus is going to be downright envious.”

As soon as the animaloid finishes talking, Zero receives a high-priority message. He blinks.

It’s from Sigma.

 _“You only had one job and it was_ no _job.”_

That's all it says. 

Zero attempts to reply but finds that he’s blocked from the Hunters’ communication network again.

 

* * *

 

"I could have died today!" erupts Dorian, the man Zero recalls dragging back to the ship earlier. The human tries to prop his good foot on a low table, hisses at the strain that it puts on his bad foot, and shakes it off as if he didn't do it. He clears his throat and goes," I'm not leaving this boat sober! Someone hand me the goddamn malort!"

"You're going to drink it straight?" 

"Damn right I am! Carpe diem, yolo, and all that jazz - "

"But it tastes like smoking a burnt condom filled with gasoline and regret."

"Which is exactly why I'm fucking doing it. I'm cleansing myself and resetting my karma."

"Drinking something that can strip car paint isn't going to rinse your sins." 

"Ashley, shush. Don't question me. Just give me that vile piece of shit. Hey you - yeah you, green reploid. What's your name? You drink?"

The C-Class Hunter in question freezes up in the sudden spotlight of attention, glances nervously at Zero from the other side of the upper deck as if asking for nonverbal permission to interact with the civilians. The warbot raises a brow and look away, not caring what anyone else decides to do.

He's technically still in vacation and Volt Kraken's extras are not his responsibility. 

In what was originally predicted to be a relatively calm ride back to port becomes lively as the humans descend into liquid chaos once more, the chants of "CHUG CHUG CHUG" radiating from the yacht's top deck like speakers. It’s not as raucously wild as it was at noon, but the humans have roped in some of the reploid crewmen into their festivities. The reploids could neither get inebriated nor take the offer to join the humans in the hot tub, but they seem to be generally enjoying themselves. The remaining Hunters are scattered at various positions throughout the yacht and the ones that are perched at the upper deck keep glancing at Zero uncertainly every time a civilian tries talking to them. 

Which isn't within his authority to make. It's not like their Unit Leaders delegated him as their temporary leading officer. They don't need to look to him for instruction.

Or maybe they’re expecting the Elite Hunter to write up a slip. 

Ecksu would have liked seeing this, thinks Zero, guarding silently from the side.

Speaking of which...

"Ecksu? Can you talk? I have a question," Zero prompts in their private channel as he stalks to a quieter corner.

A second later, Zero's favorite person replies with a ,"Yes I can. Hi Zero, what do you need?"

"You deal with humans a lot. How do you...appeal to them?" 

"Huh? I act as I always do. I don't really carry myself any different than I usually do. Do you mean how I conduct customer service?"

Of course Ecksu by default would be naturally appealing to humans. Still, that gives Zero an inspiration. 

Ecksu's haggard voice gives the combatdroid some pause. Even though the other robot sounds cheerful, it sounds tight around the edges. Concerned, he asks," Are you alright? You sound tired."

"I've...I've had better days. I did a lot of traveling today."

Zero pauses. If he blots out the noises from his immediate surroundings, Zero does notice that Ecksu sounds far away, as if the smaller robot is no longer in an enclosed space as he usually is. There's the sounds of heavy rustling and billowing static, and a familiar sound of thrashing water that Zero knows isn't coming from his end.

"Ecksu, are you close to the ocean?"

Silence. Finally the other robot sheepishly pipes up. "Ha ha, you got me. Remember that I mentioned I have a truck and I could come see you as soon as I'm done with the catering orders? I finished early! So I'm actually already in Thau’muqui. I, uh, was hoping to surprise you...”

Zero surges. "Where are you? I'm on a ship right now but I'll be landing at the Kalowala Harbor in..." Zero looks at the distance. "...Three hours. It'll be sunset by the time I arrive."

"I have a truck, Zero. I can go to you instead," chuckles Ecksu. "I can explore a bit and then come see you at the harbor. As soon as you get off, you'll see me."

Just knowing that Ecksu is going to be there at the beach is re-galvanizing Zero. He nods once, determined. "There's something I have to do for work so I'll leave call now. I'll see you soon."

"You do what you have to do. See you soon, Zero," Ecksu encourages.

Zero hangs up the call, exvents softly, and looks back at the crowd of humans and reploids gathered at the center. He's been staying at the perimeter of the space, close enough to keep an eye on Zidane in case the Councilor's son does anything, and far enough that no one would extend an invitation to the festivities.

There are three major approaches: combat, stealth, and diplomacy. While diplomacy is not Zero's strongest suit, but he has a good reference to follow.

After all, if there's anyone who can be an expert in diplomacy, it's Ecksu. He's magnetic. He's kind, sociable, radiates warmth like the sun, and can instantly endear himself to Zero and Flame Hyenard and people in general. He draws others in and open them up. Make them talk without much coaxing.

The kind of person who can find compromises. Get answers.

Zero looks at the humans and feels absolutely nothing. He sees one of the men - Emilio, he recalls - drinking an acid green concoction with a frosted rim in a tiny glass. That one is a friend of Zidane if he can act familiarly enough to make jabs at him.

 _Just follow Ecksu's example._  

Zero strides up to the man, mentally preparing himself to do one of the few things he despises.

Small talk.

"Emilio, how are you?"

Emilio looks aside to see Zero and beams. "I'm good, man! What about you, uh..." he cuts himself, off. "Ah snap, I forgot your name. What was it again?"

The warbot never gave his name in the first place, but humans have a tendency to lose data or create ones that were never there so he doesn't point it out.

"It's Zero."

"Zero? Zero the hero!" the man slaps the warbot's back. "That's perfect! Dude, I'm so glad that you're here. That was crazy earlier, huh? Should have knocked on wood, but hey, all's well that ends well. I'd offer you a drink but you reploids don't do that, right?"

"I know we can intake food and drink, but we can't get inebriated the same way as humans can from it." 

"That sucks," Emilio says, voice heavy with sympathy. "Being drunk is pretty fun."

Zero is inclined to disagree. He doesn't see a point in deliberately impairing his own senses. It's counterproductive. 

But in this case, it's an effective tool along with weaponized friendliness.  

So he steps in close, pasting on a smile and forces his eyes to lift upwards so it doesn't seem entirely fake. He lowers his voice conspiratorially, the same way Ecksu does like he's passing a secret, drawing Zero to lean in closer to hear him better. 

Affecting as much playfulness as he can, Zero says, "You can drink for me. I'd like to see you have fun."

Emilio's eyes widen, pupils darting down at Zero and back to the warbot's eyes, throat bobbing. He lets out a punched out laugh that Zero can sense is nervous. "That I can do," he says before throwing his head back, downing the entire glass. He lifts back up with a loud whoop and a furious shake of his head like that'll delay the impending punch to his liver tomorrow.

Zero smiles again. "That's impressive," he compliments, the same way Ecksu does whenever the chef reploid witnesses anyone downing his larger burgers. It must be the right thing to say because Emilio grins, though personally Zero doesn't know why drinking such a tiny thing would be an accomplishment. But if it works, it works. 

So what if Zero's not supposed to be here as a Hunter and he’s not the police. Sigma thinks he’s obsessed? Sure. Does Sigma believe the Hunters should be restricted to first response? Fine. 

The Commander's opinions don't matter to the Red Ripper.

Whatever information that Zidane has is his only lead to the Critical Threat and here's a group of conveniently exploitable humans connected to him with tongues loosening by the sip. The sooner he can scrounge up some information, the less time he'll need to conduct reconnaissance later, and the more he can focus on spending time with Ecksu while he possesses the burger flipper's individual time. 

Mission: get these humans completely wasted before the yacht reaches shore.

"How many more of those can you drink?" Zero inquires innocently. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this chapter was originally much longer but had to split it. Guess the horny content happens next chapter then.


End file.
